Mindshattered
by Velkyn Karma
Summary: Sanji knew how difficult it was to survive the hell that was starvation. What he hadn't expected was that he'd need to get his nakama through it, too. Features Zoro and Sanji; Nakamaship, no pairings. Complete.
1. Waiting to be Found

**Mindshattered**

A fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Summary:** Sanji knew how difficult it was to survive the hell that was starvation. What he hadn't expected was that he'd need to get his nakama through it, too. Features Zoro and Sanji; Nakamaship, NO PAIRINGS.

**Note:** Takes place after the Strawhat separation on Sabaody. Note that this fic is _AU_ (Alternate Universe) due to events occurring differently after the separation. Hawkeye Mihawk does not reside on Kuraiana Island in this fic, and is not even in this fic at all, period.

**Warnings:** This fic is rated T (mostly for swearing and some dark themes). The whole overall fic is a bit dark but usually stays within the T range. **THERE ARE TWO EXCEPTIONS. This first chapter is borderline-M due to some graphic descriptions, and there's a second borderline chapter later on**. If you're squeamish, you might want to skim.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"If you can't run, you crawl. And if you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you."

~_Firefly_

* * *

"And you're _sure_ this is the place," Sanji repeated with a frown, breathing out another blast of nicotine in a rush.

"Yup," Luffy answered. "This is the place."

"You're _sure_."

"I can feel it. I'm sure."

Sanji sighed, and stared over the railing at the dismal looking island. It was dark, foggy, and looked like something out of a horror story. And it reminded the cook rather uncomfortably of Thriller Bark, though he knew logically that it couldn't be. Nami-san said that according to her maps, the place was called _Kuraigana Island_, but that locals at the nearby islands reported it abandoned for years. Nobody would approach it, and nobody could give them an updated report on its status.

Not that Sanji could blame them, really. The island was swathed in fog, and didn't look to have any discernible ports. They had reached the island at mid-day, and Nami-san had taken the _Thousand Sunny_ all around the entire island, a process that took until nearly dusk. They'd found a rocky outcropping to drop anchor next to in the end that served as a make-shift dock, but it had taken skilled sailing and tight coordination in order to even manage it.

Sanji still wasn't entirely sure why they were here, other than that Luffy insisted, and Luffy got what Luffy wanted. He _was_ the captain, after all. But it wasn't like him to leave nakama behind, either, and they had only assembled half their crew since then. He, Luffy, and Nami-san were there, of course, as were Usopp and Brook, but Robin-chan, Zoro, Chopper and Franky had yet to return.

And they wouldn't be returning any time soon, with Luffy's abrupt and stunning decision. The vivre cards that had been handed out to each of them directed them all to the Sabaody Archipelago, and it was there that he, Nami-san, Usopp, and Brook had arrived at. It was there, too, that their four missing members would head to, following the instructions of the cards. But Luffy had unexpectedly ordered Nami-san and the others to leave port, and without so much as a heading for direction. He had merely pointed and said, "We head that way," and accepted no arguments (and there were many, from all of them). Nami-san had barely had time to obtain an Eternal Pose to get back to the archipelago before Luffy shooed them out, seeming almost..._anxious._

It had unnerved Sanji enough to make him finally ask just what the hell was going on, and the answer was unexpected. "Zoro's in trouble."

Sanji had only stared, stunned, and slowly repeated him. "Zoro's in trouble?"

"Yeah. Zoro's in trouble. He's not here, and he's not coming. So we need to find him."

"Come on, Luffy," Sanji had said in exasperation. "This is the marimo we're talking about. He thought north was _up_ for hell's sake. He probably just managed to go in the exact opposite direction that the card told him to."

But Luffy had only shaken his head, all the more determined. "No. He's in trouble. I can feel it. He can't come, and he needs us, so we're going to go save him. Robin and Chopper and Franky will understand, they'd want us to save our nakama too."

And he repeated it every time anybody asked ever since. Which was why, two weeks later, the _Thousand Sunny_ was now floating off shore of this creepy island, somehow miraculously directed here on nothing more than a crazy _whim_ from their captain. Sanji sighed, and wondered just how the hell he'd gotten on this crew to begin with.

Luffy was now bounding over to Nami-san, insisting that they go explore right away. He seemed cheerful, despite his insistence that they were rescuing a nakama. Sanji supposed he could understand that in a way. As far as Luffy was concerned, the fact that they were even here meant Zoro was safe now, before they'd even found him.

_"Now?"_ Nami-san was asking, bewildered. "Luffy, it's getting dark, and that island...we don't even know what's on it!"

"Then it'll be an adventure," Luffy said excitedly. "It's a mystery island after all!"

_"Luffy._ Take this _seriously._ If Zoro is really in trouble like you said, then something here had to _attack him_. And you want us to go out, in the dark, without any warning, to explore?"

"Yes!" Luffy answered, nodding excitedly.

There would be no dissuading him, Sanji knew, and so he and Nami-san exchanged looks and finally sighed. After some debate, it was decided that Usopp (caught with a sudden case of I-Can't-Step-On-The-Creepy-Island-Or-I'll-Die Disease) would remain behind with the _Sunny_, while Sanji, Nami-san, Luffy and Brook explored it and searched for their missing nakama.

They hadn't expected much on the fog-shrouded, deserted island, which was why all of them (save Luffy) were stunned to find a well-made gravelly path not too far from where they had docked their ship. It seemed to lead down to the natural dock on the island, which meant whoever had built it was familiar with sailing. They agreed to follow it.

After an hour of careful trekking they saw no sign of anything living, other than a few animals. They _did_ stumble across an unusual sight, however; the gravel path cut straight through broken-down stone ruins, which looked for all the world like they had been hit with some sort of natural disaster. Square blocks of stone littered the area, and there were piles of stones where foundations for stone houses had clearly existed once upon a time.

They searched through the whole broken-down village, but found no sign of the marimo anywhere. There were a few places where the stone looked more recently worn than others, shattered in ways that did not mesh with the destruction that had clearly hit the rest of the place. If Sanji had to guess, he'd say a battle had taken place here, but it was hard to tell. Footprints couldn't be left in stone, and the gravel had been raked clean, obliterating any traces of combat a long time ago.

The man-made path seemed to continue right over the ruins, however, and Nami-san commented that it had probably been made after whatever had destroyed this village took place. Sanji agreed with her (she was brilliant after all), and the four of them continued up the path towards wherever it led.

The path ended abruptly at a massive iron-wrought gate, topped with spikes and guarded by decorative gargoyles on stone posts. It was like something out of a cheesy horror story, Sanji thought with exasperation...as was the massive, but slightly broken down castle within the gate. All they'd need now was a flash of lightning and an appropriately spooky voice to fit the rest of the cliches.

Of course, scary or silly, there was one thing that they could all count on. Sanji exchanged looks with Nami-san, and waited expectantly for the exclamation and subsequent order to come.

_"So cool!"_ Luffy yelled delightedly half a second later, right on time. "What an awesome mystery castle! Let's go inside and see more of it!"

Sanji sighed, lit a cigarette, and obediently slipped through the wide bars after the other three. If the marimo _was_ fooling around in there, he sure as hell was going to give the man a good kick in the teeth for being such an annoyance.

* * *

They hadn't had much luck, exploring the castle. Luffy and Brook had gone one way, while he stayed with Nami-san (naturally, to protect her) and headed opposite. So far all they had found were a number of dark corridors and broken-down walls and doors. Nami-san had discovered a pair of torches, which Sanji had lit with his lighter so that they could see, but that was about it for 'miraculous' finds.

Still, Luffy insisted that the idiot marimo had to be in here somewhere, just before they'd split up. And he'd been oddly firm on that point, stating it with the quiet calm that usually indicated some form of strange wisdom in their captain. Truth be told it chilled Sanji a little to hear it, and so they kept up the search, stumbling over broken boards and stone and peaking into each doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of their (probably snoozing) swordsman.

Their first major discovery came almost forty-five minutes later, when Nami-san discovered a door that was locked unusually well. "Too solid for this broken-down place," she'd stated, tapping the thick wooden boards that made up the door. "Something's fishy about it. Let's explore. Maybe there's treasure!"

Sanji was more than willing to break the offending door down—it was strong, but not strong enough to withstand his Red Leg martial arts, and he had it in splinters within seconds. Behind it was a flight of stairs leading downward. Unlike the rest of the creepy mansion, these stairs weren't covered in an inch-thick layer of dust, but rather had a number of footprints and an unusual furrow in the middle of the stairs. Nami-san pointed these out, and Sanji nodded in understanding. Someone had been through here, more recently than anywhere else, and had probably dragged something down after them.

Sanji could clearly see Nami-san's thoughts filling with images of huge sacks of gold and jewels, to judge by the beri in her eyes. Well, she deserved it, certainly! They followed the trail in the dust down the stairs, torches held high, and Sanji vowed to carry however much she needed him to out of the darkness when they found it. And he'd make sure none of the others got it, too; it would be Nami-san's well-earned gold, and nobody else's.

But it wasn't gold that they found, when they reached the foot of the staircase. There was a hallway, dark and dank, and the torches cast ominous shadows along the left-hand wall. The smell was terrible; musty, with hints of sickness, rot, filth, and old blood. He wrinkled his nose against it immediately and coughed involuntarily. Nami-san did much the same.

"I don't think there'd be any treasure down here," Sanji said doubtfully, frowning. He didn't like this place, suddenly. Something about it, maybe the smell, sent chills down his spine and made him unexplainably anxious. Something wasn't right here, and he needed to get Nami-san out as fast as he could.

Nami-san nodded in agreement, covering her nose with her free hand. She turned to leave, holding the torch in her other hand high, but froze suddenly as its shadows flickered over the right wall, revealing what they hadn't noticed before in the gloom.

There wasn't a wall on their right. Instead a series of thick iron bars, with an iron door fastened into the center, blocked off a small square area of space approximately eight feet by eight feet. It was a cell. A stone wall separated it from a second cell next to the first, and a third was beyond that, halfway vanished into the gloom.

Instinct was screaming at Sanji now, and he stepped forward, gesturing to Nami-san. "We should leave," he said urgently. "There's something not right about this place."

"I...maybe," she agreed, frowning. "But something...something feels weird here. Give me just five minutes, I want to peek into the cells."

Sanji was doubtful, and could have told her they wouldn't find anything of interest. Certainly not the treasure she wanted, but probably a number of unpleasant things, judging from the smell. And a lot of spiders. Spiders were common in dungeons, weren't they? But he couldn't leave her by herself, so he nodded grimly and kept close to her side, sweeping the torch around repeatedly to search for danger.

The first cell was empty, as was the second, beyond piles of unrecognizable things that neither of them had any desire to examine more closely. Nami-san tested each of the doors with a quick shake. One hung awkwardly on its padlock, for its hinges were broken. But both were firmly locked, which seemed to puzzle her.

"These are in really good repair, other than that broken door," she explained to the cook, at his confused look. "I don't understand why somebody would bother to keep these in such good condition, if there isn't even anything in them."

"Maybe there was," Sanji answered dubiously, eyeing the dark stains and unrecognizable lumps in the otherwise empty cells. Nami shrugged, and continued on.

Moving broadened their circle of light, and they discovered that there were five cells in total. They approached the third, raised their torches high, and peered in...only to recoil in disgust.

This cell was occupied, and what was worse, they recognized its inhabitant. It was Perona, the girl with those negative ghosts that had caused so much trouble back on Thriller Bark. Last they had seen her she was creepily perky, with a gothic lolita style, bubblegum-pink hair, and obsession with cute animals and zombies. But even so Sanji wouldn't have wished this on anyone, and especially not a woman. The girl was clearly dead, curled up in the center of the cell and covered in so much grime and blood it was nearly impossible to discern her original hair color, or the color of her clothes. Her hands were bound tightly behind her with cuffs that Sanji quickly recognized as seastone infused, which would explain how she was kept there to begin with. The smell of rot came most strongly from her cell, and Sanji realized she'd probably been dead for days.

"It's that girl," Nami-san said, covering her mouth with her hands. Then, almost before Sanji had realized it, she'd shoved her torch into his free hand, spun, and was promptly violently ill on the floor.

Sanji couldn't blame her. The sight was disturbing, and he was barely keeping his own dinner down, and that only due to sheer force of will. It would be rather unmanly to throw up in front of Nami-san, after all. Still, he couldn't keep himself from staring at the girl with morbid fascination, trying to figure out exactly why she had died.

It hit him suddenly, like a sack of bricks. There were probably a number of minor factors—the place smelt of illness, so she could have contracted something, and it was quite cold down here, so anybody was liable to catch a fever. But he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that those weren't the main causes. It was difficult to see underneath all the filth that coated her body, but Perona's skin was shriveled tight against her skeleton, her body a bony mass that nearly rivaled Brook's. She'd starved to death.

Unbidden, memories from years ago came flooding back to him, memories of sitting on that god-forsaken rock waiting for somebody to come and save him because he couldn't even save himself. He remembered staring at his hands then, the only part of him he could still really see after a while. They'd been skeletal, frighteningly so, reminding him all too keenly of his dependence on the food that he didn't have, of how his own body was attacking itself, feeding on itself, because it couldn't find that nourishment anywhere else. Remembered the one time he'd looked in the water's reflection when he took a drink from the basin, seeing his own face, nearly skeletal itself. That had scared him to death, given him nightmares for days. He closed his eyes every time after when he drank.

"Sanji-kun!"

His mind snapped back to the present, and with a nearly impossible wrench he managed to pull his gaze from the dead body. Nami-san was watching him with concern, still wiping her mouth on one sleeve. When their eyes met, she held out her hand for her torch and said with a frown, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Nami-san," he said, though his voice was shakier than he would have liked. And then, with more forced cheer than usual, he added, "Thank you for being so concerned about me!"

Nami-san grimaced. "Let's just...move on," she said, and Sanji was concerned to find her own voice was wavering as well. "I have a really bad feeling about this." And she continued down the hall towards the final two cells.

"Nami-san, maybe we should just leave," Sanji suggested, giving the dead body one last glance before following her.

"I'd love to," she said, her voice dark. "Whatever did that to a Devil Fruit user could be back. But I...I don't know. I have a feeling...it's probably a stupid hunch, but..."

"No ideas of yours are stupid, Nami-san!" Sanji cooed for her despite himself.

She smirked at him, but it was devoid of cheer. "...I remember seeing Kuma attack her. He asked where she'd like to go on vacation. And he asked Zoro the same thing, but Zoro never answered...and we're here for _him_..." She trailed off, looking suddenly anxious, and thrust her torch at the fourth cell. Sanji held his breath.

It was empty. Sanji breathed out, and heard Nami-san sigh audibly as well in relief. Only one more to go. They trotted a little more quickly to the final cell, determined to finish their check and get out of there as fast as possible. Both held out their torches simultaneously, and Sanji abruptly felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

Zoro was laying in the middle of that cell, but it wasn't the same Zoro he had seen on that day that Kuma separated them all; wasn't the same Zoro he and Nami were used to. Like Perona, he too was curled tightly in the middle of the floor, his arms wrenched so sharply back behind him and so tightly cuffed that his shoulders stuck out at painfully odd angles. He was still wearing shredded remains of the striped shirt he'd worn when they'd last seen him, and his pants were shredded as well, but his boots and haramaki were nowhere to be seen. Vicious scars, the same scars that Sanji had seen on him after he'd taken on Luffy's suffering in Thriller Bark, the same ones that had reopened against Kuma, crisscrossed over Zoro's body beneath the rotted-away bits of bandages. They looked like they had healed poorly. Sanji could recognize _that_ even despite the layers of grime and dust that covered their swordsman as well—he, like Perona, was positively filthy. His hair was longer and matted, while his face had the thick stubble of days worth of obvious neglect. Not that you could really tell, or even see what color it was, under all the filth.

But worst of all was that Zoro had suffered the same fate Sanji feared the most for himself, or any of his nakama. The thick muscles that the swordsman had spent hours on both the _Merry_ and the _Sunny_ building up were gone, just _gone_, leaving behind only skeletal, stretched-thin remains. There was nothing left to even suggest that the once-powerful man had had enough physical strength to lift a building and hurl it at an opponent, to cut through steel, to survive taking the hurts of both himself _and _his captain and still remain standing.

This wasn't the same Zoro they knew. It was him, but it wasn't him at the same time. Sanji felt a horrible twist in his stomach and recoiled slightly at the sight of it, sending his torch flickering.

"Oh, no," Nami-san whispered under her breath. Her eyes were wide, and a little watery, not that Sanji could blame her. Now he really_ did_ feel like being sick himself, and probably wouldn't have cared by this point if Nami-san watched or not. His stomach was beginning to roil, but at that moment there was a hint of movement from with in the cell, and the next second Sanji saw a soft reflective glitter as his torchlight flickered off one of Zoro's half-opened eyes.

Sanji's jaw dropped, stunned, and Nami gasped as she too spotted it.

"I don't believe it," she whispered, now glancing at Sanji to exchange stunned looks, and he could only nod in silent agreement, not even sure what to say. _Zoro was still alive._

Nami had shoved her torch into Sanji's hands in seconds and withdrew a pin from her orange hair, bending to get a look at the lock. "Hold the light here," she instructed quickly, urgently, and Sanji did as he was bid immediately, for once not just because she'd ordered him to. The faster they got in, the faster they could get Zoro the hell out of there, and the faster Sanji could get something in his stomach. Zoro might not have died of starvation yet, but he was pretty fucking close at this juncture, and unless they did something fast...

Zoro groaned softly as the light was moved, and his eyes slid shut again tiredly. His breathing, barely noticeable as it was, turned into pained rasps, and he seemed to be trying to bury his face in the thick, foully-coated stone. Sanji realized that the torchlight was probably hurting his eyes, especially if he was kept down here in the pitch darkness for who only knew how long. He shifted carefully to try and block as much of the light as he could with his shoulder, while still giving Nami-san enough light to work by. Normally he wouldn't mind tormenting the marimo, but this was hardly a normal situation, and Sanji knew just how dangerous their swordsman's condition was. From personal experience, no less. He shuddered.

"There," Nami-san said, and with an audible _click_ the cell's door swung open. She snatched her torch back quickly and the two ducked inside, wedging the door with a broken piece of stone to keep it wide. Then they were both at the swordsman's side, crouching as best as they could to avoid the filth and decay scattered all along the brick floor.

Zoro had actually flinched—no, that wasn't right, Sanji decided; _twitched_ was better, Zoro never _flinched_—he'd _twitched _when they creaked the cell's door open, and cracked his eyes open again, only to squeeze them shut at the approach of the light. Sanji had found that in and of itself unusual, but worse still was the swordsman's reaction when they crouched near him. Zoro slit his eyes open, barely, drew back his lips to expose his teeth—and growled at them.

Nami-san exchanged startled looks with Sanji, who shrugged in confusion himself. "Maybe he can't see us? The light looks like it's hurting his eyes."

"Maybe." She frowned and tried to shield her torchlight with one hand while examining their swordsman's shackles. "I think I can get these off, but you'll have to hold this again for me...and I'll have to do it slowly, I don't want to hurt him..."

She shivered slightly as they both realized the true meaning of that statement. Never before had_ Nami-san_ truly been in danger of hurting _Zoro_. Even when unconscious or wounded after a heavy battle, Zoro still remained obstinately enduring, impossible to really _hurt_. But now he was..._fragile_, Sanji realized with a twist of disgust and horror, a word he had _never_ expected to apply to their swordsman, ever. But it was true all the same. In Zoro's current state, if they weren't careful, they could easily break him beyond saving.

"You'll be fine, Nami-san," Sanji said encouragingly, and he meant it. He'd been the victim of more than one of her annoyed punches on the ship (well deserved, of course). But he knew she could be incredibly gentle and dexterous when she needed to be, and cared for her nakama as much as any of the others.

But when Sanji reached over Zoro's prone body to take her torch from her, the swordsman growled again, a rasping, dry sound that sounded oddly feral. Like he wasn't even human anymore. Like he was some kind of beast. Sanji paled, and was thankful for the darkness, so that Nami-san couldn't see it.

He recalled, with the sudden vividness only strong, terrible memories could produce, what those last days of hunger had been like. How he had become so hungry he was willing to attack a fully grown, murderous pirate well known for killing with his _Red Leg_ martial arts just for the chance at a scrap of food. How he'd barely known who he was by then, how he'd forgotten his dreams, his hopes, his fears, his joys, and pulled back into himself, to the very basics of living, to the very edge of humanity. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He was in pain. He slept a lot, but he was still tired. Something about a ship; he didn't really know by then.

Hunger made humans feral. Pain made humans feral._ Survival_ made humans feral. Zoro had survived, barely, but he definitely wasn't the Zoro they knew right now. And, Sanji realized grimly, suddenly, he probably didn't even recognize either of them anymore, because he probably didn't recognize himself anymore, only his current situation.

"Marimo," Sanji said, very quietly, very softly, like he would to an angry, wounded animal in a trap, not a person. "Calm down. It's me and Nami-san."

Zoro quieted for a moment, but it seemed more out of confusion, not calm. The soft, non-threatening tone seemed to puzzle him, but as soon as Sanji reached forward to take Nami-san's torch again Zoro was snarling anew, noises that quickly turned into dry, hacking coughs.

"What's going on?" Nami-san asked in confusion. She looked like she wanted to be sick again, and probably didn't understand why their nakama wasn't reacting to their presence with his usual reserved personality. Or hell, even relief.

"Not sure." Sanji frowned slightly. There was more to this than just hunger; Zoro was specifically reacting whenever Sanji raised his hand, rather as if—

—as if he was expecting to be attacked. Oh, _shit._

"Zoro," Sanji said, more clearly now, and shifted slightly so that the swordsman could see him easier instead of weakly trying to crane his neck behind him. "Calm down. It's _us_. Sanji and Nami." He omitted her usual '-san' intentionally; Zoro was more familiar with just her name anyway, and he had to see if he could reach the man, convince him they weren't trying to kill him or...whatever. He didn't really want to think about that right now. Later, when they got out of here.

Zoro met his eyes, squinting painfully against the torchlight even when Sanji did his best to hide it behind his back. There wasn't any recognition in them. Instead, Sanji saw wariness, exhaustion, and...he couldn't believe it. Was Zoro actually _afraid_ of him? That didn't make sense, even if he didn't recognize Sanji; Zoro wasn't afraid of anyone, even when he should be.

"Son of a bitch," Sanji swore. He didn't like what he was seeing. Zoro's breathing grew heavier, more pained rasps that Sanji recognized as a wary sort of panic now, and the swordsman snapped his teeth as though threatening to bite, the only weapon he had left. But Sanji recognized that defensive show for what it was too: fake, and useless.

"I'm not an enemy," Sanji said, very slowly and very clearly. Zoro didn't recognize him; pointless to try and force him to for now. They had to get him out of here before he got worse or injured himself accidentally while trying to defend himself. "We're taking you away from here. Okay? Just calm down."

Nami met his eyes over Zoro's curled body and frowned, mouthing the words _what's going on?_ Sanji gave a quick gesture, hoping she picked up the_ I'll explain later_ for what it was, and waited impatiently. Zoro's panicked breathing was slowly righting itself as well as it could in this terrible atmosphere, calming down ever so slightly, but his eyes remained locked on Sanji's like a trapped rat might watch a hungry cat.

_Shit._ Whoever had locked their swordsman in here, they were going to pay for whatever they did to the Strawhats' nakama. _Tenfold._

Sanji waited five minutes, then slowly held out his hand for Nami's torch, watching for Zoro's reaction. The swordsman gave a weak hiss, but what little exertion he had already given seemed to have exhausted him, and the sound seemed more to somehow prove that he could still fight back if he had to...which both he and Sanji knew was a lie, the cook was sure. Still, he made sure to move carefully, to establish that he was _not_ about to attack the man, and Zoro didn't fight further.

Sanji nodded to Nami, and she bent down to examine the shackles once more. They were thick, and incredibly long, binding Zoro's arms not just at the wrists but nearly up to his elbows in thick, crisscrossing chains that cut into his already thin skin and muscle badly. These were the reason for his arms being wrenched back so unnaturally, and Nami-san set to work carefully, picking at the lock slowly so as not to jar their swordsman around too much and cause him unnecessary pain.

It took her almost ten minutes to get into the lock, which was apparently well crafted to judge by her whispered swears. The entire time, Sanji kept glancing out into the gloom of the cells' hallway, expecting somebody to come creeping back any moment and discover them releasing one of his prisoners. Sanji would kick his ass, or at least attempt to, but if whoever it was was strong enough to imprison their swordsman and leave him for dead, the cook couldn't help but wonder how much use he'd be. The sooner they got the hell out of here, the better.

Worse still was the way Zoro watched him. He still had that wary, hunted, broken look, like he expected Sanji to tear him apart at any moment. Sanji didn't like the thought of seeing that look on any of his friends' faces, but it was almost worse seeing it on Zoro. The man was supposed to be able to take care of himself, after all, not become so...hopelessly _weak_. He wasn't supposed to need Sanji's protection, or Nami's, or anyone else's, dammit...it was his fucking job to _protect!_

But he wasn't protecting now. He wasn't even dealing with his own injuries well. Every time Nami-san jarred his arms even slightly Zoro would gasp or groan in pain, or try to curl up tighter on himself. This frequently made the whole process even worse, as he would pull away from Nami-san, which would in turn pull at his wrenched arms, and start the process all over again. Sanji would have tried to hold him still to make things easier on all of them, but both his hands were occupied with the torches. For the first time, he found himself wishing he had Robin-chan's Devil Fruit. It would probably come in handy right about how.

But at last Nami managed to get the cuffs off, and slid Zoro's arms carefully free from them. The skin underneath was raw and bleeding, bitten by the tough metal, and covered in grime as well.

"This is terrible," she whispered softly. "We'll need to wash these as soon as we get back or they're going to get infected. Well...even _more_ infected," she amended, biting her lip.

Zoro still hadn't moved his arms, so Nami lifted his left—the arm closer to the ceiling—up gently and rotated it forward. Zoro gasped and bucked suddenly, knocking Nami backwards into the dirty wall as he writhed. Sanji swore loudly, leaned forward, and awkwardly tried to pin the swordsman with one knee, holding the torches high so he didn't burn either of them. Nami recovered after a moment and moved forward to help, holding the swordsman down with both her free hands until the pained fit had passed. It was a depressing testimony to how much power Zoro had lost that Nami was able to manage it with only a little exertion of her own strength.

When he was finally done, Nami grimaced quietly and whispered, "Sorry, Zoro. I didn't mean to...hurt you or anything..." She shuddered again at the awkwardness of the statement, and carefully placed her hand on the swordsman's side. Sanji could see from the rise and fall of her delicate fingers how rapidly the injured man was breathing, and frowned to himself. At this rate, Zoro was going to kill himself entirely by accident before they could even get him out of there. He could have broken something in that little thrashing fit, and in his current state even a broken arm or a rib could be fatal, draining him of more energy and nutrients for the recovery that he flat-out couldn't afford to lose.

They waited again for the swordsman to calm and for his breathing to slow. Then Nami brought her hand up to Zoro's shoulder, ignoring the pained, warning growl the swordsman gave her, and tentatively felt at it. After a moment she began massaging the skin and what little muscle remained there while slowly rotating the arm forward. Zoro moaned and still managed to writhe slightly in obvious discomfort, but Nami was careful this time, and the procedure seemed to work. After a moment they rolled Zoro onto his back and repeated the process with the other arm, though Nami reported with a frown that something was definitely wrong with it.

"We need to get him out of here," she said grimly, suddenly determined. "If he stays down here too much longer it's going to kill him."

"You're right," Sanji agreed, his voice equally grim. He was still staring down at the swordsman, though thankfully Zoro was no longer staring back. He'd passed out at some point, somewhere between rolling him onto his back and loosening his other shoulder. That was only one of many problems, anyway; Zoro might not be staring back any more, but his deteriorated muscles, infected scars, and poor breathing still hadn't gone away.

"If I carry the torches, do you think you could carry him, Sanji-kun?" Nami-san asked. "He's still a bit big for me, even...even now..." She bit her lip at the implication and grimaced.

"Of course, Nami-san," he said immediately. "I wouldn't have let you carry him anyway." Which was true. Zoro was filthy, bloodied, sickly, and probably just as much a danger to them as to himself at this point. There was no way Nami-san would be forced to carry that.

But it wasn't just that, either. Zoro was starving; there was no other way to put it. Even if he hadn't been here, even if there was nothing Sanji could possibly have done to stop it, he still felt like this was partly his fault. Maybe if he hadn't spent so much time arguing with Luffy they'd have made it here faster. Maybe if he'd started searching as soon as he wound up on that okama island he could have found the others, even Zoro, sooner. Maybe, maybe, maybe—there were a hundred thousand _maybes_, but the extent of it came out to he was a complete failure as a cook, and because of his failure one of his nakama was literally starving to death. So it was his burden to bear, and his job to set everything right.

Sanji grit his teeth in determination. He was desperate for a smoke by now to set his anxiety at ease and calm himself, but he had a feeling the cigarette smoke would probably be pretty bad for Zoro, who already wasn't breathing properly. He'd just have to grin and bear it. Or grimace, as it were.

Nami-san ground out one of the torches—they wouldn't need both now, since Sanji would have his hands full anyway. She helped Sanji sit the inert swordsman up with one hand; Zoro was terrifyingly silent in unconsciousness, and for one fearful moment they'd thought he'd died. But he was still breathing, and with Nami-san's help Sanji managed to get him into a piggyback, with Zoro's thin arms draping down over his own shoulders. He was frighteningly light. Sanji had gotten pretty used to that heft when literally kicking the marimo's ass back on their ships, and Zoro had always been pretty heavy from all that muscle mass. He was a fraction of that weight now, skin, bone, filth, and little else.

Sanji had taken off his suit-jacket before carrying the swordsman's dead weight, and Nami-san spread it over Zoro's thin shoulders now, still frowning. Even if it hadn't been _Nami-san_ doing it, he still wouldn't have argued. It wouldn't provide much protection against the elements, and he'd probably never get the damn thing clean again, but he could always buy another one. Nakama were irreplaceable.

"Let's get out of here," Nami-san said, turning for the stairway that led into the castle proper, and Sanji couldn't possibly think of anything else he'd rather be doing at that very moment.

* * *

Note that I did a_ lot_ of research for this fanfic, and so a lot of the stuff you'll come across is accurate and a little grizzly. In particular, I used the _Minnesota Starvation Experiment_ as a major reference, which is where a lot of the stuff in this fic is going to come from.

As per usual, this fic is finished, so expect regular updates. Whoooo.

If you choose to leave a review, please give it some substance! I enjoy both con-crit and non-critical responses, as long as they are thoughtful. :)

~VelkynKarma


	2. Cold Sleep

**Mindshattered**

Part two of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Sleep,  
Those little slices of Death.  
How I loathe them."  
~Edgar Allen Poe

* * *

Now that they knew the island was dangerous, Sanji and Nami-san were agreed that they had better leave as fast as possible. Anything that could imprison Zoro and put him in his current state was not something they wanted to sneak up on them, especially in this gloomy castle at night.

They needed to find their remaining nakama first, though. Usopp had likely not left the ship due to his cowardice. But Luffy and Brook were likely still exploring the other half of the castle, searching for Zoro and (in the case of Luffy) food or new nakama.

It was taking them too long to track their captain and musician down, though. The entire time, Nami-san kept jumping at the smallest of sounds and scrabbling close to Sanji for reassurance, before realizing what she was doing and pushing off against him. Under normal circumstances he would have loved every minute of it. Every second Nami-san was pressed up against his body was a good second, after all.

But now, though he kept himself from physically starting, he found his nerves were just as unstable as Nami-san's. Not to mention he was becoming increasingly worried about Zoro. The weight didn't bother him—not that there was much of it to begin with, anymore—but he could barely feel the man breathing against his back, and that made him nervous. Something at the back of his mind kept screaming that the longer they wasted time searching, the less of a chance Zoro had of surviving. The terrifying image of their swordsman dying on him (literally) and piggybacking a corpse back to the _Sunny_ flitted across his mind more than once. Plus he stank; the rancid scents of the dungeon seemed to cling to their unconscious companion, and filled Sanji's nostrils foully.

Sanji was seriously debating returning to the _Sunny_ before continuing the search, after a while. He was loath to leave Nami-san on her own in this castle, though, and she probably wouldn't leave until they'd found their two missing companions.

He was just considering the merits of going back to the _Sunny_ with Nami-san anyway and having Usopp send up a flare when the missing pirates arrived, loudly as always. Luffy catapulted around the corner of one hallway, Brook _yohoho_-ing loudly in tow, and many long, loud banging noises followed as what sounded like hundreds of metallic objects clattered to the ground in a heap far down the hall. Sanji briefly contemplated what trouble his captain could possibly have gotten himself into this time, and then decided upon reflection that he really didn't want to know.

"Nami!" Luffy said delightedly, and trotted towards them with a small canvas sack over one shoulder and something else strapped to his back. "Look, look, look what I found!" And he shoved the bag towards her, opening it excitedly.

Sanji couldn't see it very well in the gloom, but something glittered in the torchlight, and he thought he could make out the yellow sheen of gold. The sack was small, but full and bulging, a fairly decent haul for an otherwise broken-down wreck of a castle.

"We found Zoro-san's haramaki and swords, too," Brook added, gesturing to the objects strapped to Luffy's back, which Sanji could now make out as the sheathes of three familiar katana and a thick green sash wrapped around them. "There was a room with hundreds of bounty posters a little ways back, and dozens of weapons. Some of them were of very good quality! And they seemed to be arranged by the posters on the walls, too. Zoro-san's belongings were underneath both copies of his poster."

"Yeah," Luffy said excitedly. "They had his old one _and_ his new one. And I saw ours too next to his on the wall, and all _three_ of mine were there," he added, proudly. "I told you Zoro was here!"

"Ah...Luffy..." Nami looked hesitant now, and she'd barely glanced at the bag of gold. Luffy seemed to catch on suddenly, and even Brook seemed stunned.

"Is something wrong, Nami-san? I thought you would be pleased with all the valuables we found!"

"Oh...no, you did a good job...it's just..."

"Luffy," Sanji said seriously, picking up as Nami-san trailed off, as she clearly unsure how to explain, "We already found Zoro. Now we need to get out of here, _fast_."

Luffy blinked in surprise. Nami-san raised her torch higher, illuminating Sanji and his burden even more. Zoro was still unconscious, but even so they'd tried to be careful with the light in case it disturbed him too much. That, combined with the dark jacket spread across his shoulders and the dirt and filth that coated his skin, made him rather difficult to spot in the castle's gloomy atmosphere.

But Luffy saw him now, and his widening eyes betrayed his shock. He seemed dumbstruck for the first time in history that Sanji could ever recall. But after a few moments he finally forced his voice to work and said slowly, "Zoro is...he's..."

"He's hurt bad," Sanji summarized quickly. "We found him in a dungeon. We can't afford to waste any more time here, Luffy. If we wait any longer to give him medical attention he might not last much longer. He might not make it through the night as it is." Sanji looked grim.

Luffy's expression was blank for a moment, still stunned, but then his eyes narrowed in fierce determination. "Who did this?" he growled. "Who did this to Zoro? I'll kill him for hurting my nakama!"

"We don't know, Luffy," Nami-san said this time, voice urgent. "We found him alone. Even if we did, we can't waste time trying to fight whoever did this. Zoro's really hurt, Luffy, and he's really sick too. We'll do what we can for him, but he needs a real doctor. We need to head back to the Archipelago so we can find Chopper as soon as possible!"

Luffy frowned, clearly caught between defending his nakama and assuring their health. In past situations it would have been a fair enough dilemma; Zoro was usually tough enough to bull through anything, and deal with the medical ramifications afterwards. But now their wasn't a choice, and they needed Luffy to understand that.

So Sanji said very slowly, and very clearly, "Luffy. Zoro deserves a crack at this guy, too, don't you think? We need to get him treated so he'll be strong enough to kick this guy's ass when we find him. And you and me can help." Putting on a casual scowl normally reserved for his spats with Zoro, though he wasn't really feeling it at the moment, he added, "I certainly owe the bastard who did this a good kick or two, I'm never going to get this stench out of my suit..."

It seemed to work. Luffy nodded in determination and slammed one fist into his other palm. "Right. Zoro needs a chance too. Okay! Let's go back and take care of Zoro!"

Nami-san gave Sanji a grateful look, and he nodded back to her with a weak smile he didn't really feel, either.

The going was slow from there. Sanji wanted to move with as much speed as he could muster once they got out of the castle proper—it was still over an hour's walk back to the_ Sunny_, after all, and they didn't know how much strength Zoro had left in him for living. But much like the incident on Drum Island that now seemed like an age ago, Zoro couldn't take much of a beating in his present state, and running would probably do him more harm than good. So Sanji kept his pace steady and smooth and tried to ignore the stench of rot and filth in his nostrils and the terrifyingly light weight he was supporting. Tried to forget the fact that Zoro never once woke up despite their loud conversations and Luffy's rambunctious attempt to shake him awake once before anyone else could stop him.

Luffy was becoming a problem, and Sanji soon came to understand the captain wasn't quite to terms with just how bad off Zoro was. Which was, in a way, understandable. Zoro had always been the one member of the crew that could be relied on to get up after anything and everything. Zoro was virtually indestructible, and Luffy probably still saw him that way, especially since he _hadn't_ seen the state they'd found Zoro in. Even now, Zoro still looked somewhat better off than he had in the dungeon; he was uncuffed, safely surrounded by his nakama, and his bony appearance was well hidden by the gloom and Sanji's jacket.

Nami-san seemed to recognize the risk as well, because she eventually 'suggested' that Luffy run ahead back to the _Sunny_ with messages for Usopp. "Get a bath ready," she'd ordered. "A hot one. Find some of Zoro's clothes from his bunk, and tell Usopp to find whatever he can in Chopper's infirmary that can treat infections and cuts. Oh—and make sure he finds a razor and some scissors, too," she'd finished, glancing at Zoro's matted, much longer hair and the thick green stubble on his face and throat.

Luffy had been forced to recite the message twice to Nami-san before he was allowed to leave, but he did it without a mistake, which made Sanji realize that he understood the situation on _some_ level at least. Then he was off, jogging through the black forest down the path to their ship with breathtaking speed. Sanji and the others continued with their slower pace, Sanji carrying their injured nakama while Brook or Nami-san occasionally checked his pulse or felt his forehead. Zoro never stirred at their touches, and that alarmed Sanji badly.

Everything was ready for them when they finally returned to the ship. Usopp had let the gangplank down so they wouldn't need to carry Zoro up the rope ladder, for which Sanji was grateful. The sniper wrung his hands nervously when Sanji stepped onto the deck, and trembled slightly when he saw Zoro's limp frame, but leapt into his explanations immediately.

"The bath's all ready," he said quickly. "It should be warm enough by now without burning. I got some towels and washcloths ready too, and I put some of his clothes in there. The infirmary was tricky though...but I think I found some disinfectants and I got all the bandages ready." He gulped as he stared at Zoro again, apparently not sure that it would be enough now.

"Good job, Usopp," Nami-san said, taking charge. She still looked a little pale, but she'd had enough time to get over her shock at least. "You should help Sanji in the bathroom. Zoro needs to be cleaned off so we can get to his wounds before we can treat them. Brook, if you'd keep an eye on Luffy?"

"Certainly," the skeleton said. His bony face couldn't frown, but Sanji could still hear the grave concern in his voice. He immediately trotted over to Luffy, who was watching his first mate with morbid curiosity, and offered to sing a few ditties for him at the captain's request. Luffy seemed to realize he was being side-tracked, and for one moment that rare, thoughtful look flitted across his face, but then he nodded and shuffled off to the opposite side of the ship with Brook.

"Good," Nami-san said. "I know he's worried, and he'd probably want to help, but there's nothing he can do here." She sighed, gave Zoro's broken body a helpless look, and then said, "Bring him to the infirmary when you're done. I'll try to have everything ready for him."

"Of course, Nami-san," Sanji agreed. "Though it may take a while..."

"Just be careful," she warned, not that Sanji really needed it. "Go slow enough that you don't make anything worse, but don't waste time either. I don't...I don't know how much time he even _has_..."

"Don't worry," Usopp said. His voice was shaking, but he nodded with a false look of bravado. "This is Zoro, after all. He'll pull through. He said he'd never die until he achieved his dream, and Zoro wouldn't break _that_ promise..."

Sanji could easily have disagreed—Thriller Bark came immediately to mind—but it wasn't the time for that, not now. So instead he started off towards the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "C'mon, Usopp. I'll definitely need your help with this..."

What followed was perhaps one of the most awkward moments of Sanji's life. Zoro was coated from head to toe in the disgusting remnants of the dungeon he'd been kept in, and as Nami-san deduced, that filth would need to be washed away before they could even attempt to tend to his wounds. But that included Zoro's clothing, which was so filthy the grime seemed to have been permanently ground in. They'd had to strip him down completely, and Sanji figured the tattered remains of his pants and shirt would need to be burned; there was just no saving those things at this point.

After that had been the awkward and rather difficult process of the washing itself. Zoro remained steadily unconscious throughout the whole procedure, for which Sanji was exceedingly grateful, though a small part of him worried over what that might mean for his health in the long term, if he didn't wake up for all this manhandling. But it also meant his body was uncooperative, and in the end Usopp spent most of his time holding Zoro's head above water while Sanji knelt at the side of the tub, cursed a blue streak under his breath, and did his best to scrub the layers of filth free from the swordsman's scarred skin. They ended up drawing the bath two more times before Zoro could officially be declared 'clean enough to treat;' the water turned black far too quickly for their tastes, interspersed with twists of flowing red as scars no longer held closed by crusted dirt broke free and bled. And Sanji hadn't even bothered to try and wash his marimo head. Instead he simply chopped the matted, tangled longer hair nearly down to the scalp with the scissors Usopp had found, and gave him a cursory swipe with a razor to deal with the thick stubble at his throat. It wasn't exactly even, but he _highly_ doubted a good shave and a haircut was on the swordsman's priority list at the present moment. Zoro'd never been one to care about his looks anyway to begin with.

When they were finally done, Usopp and Sanji between them managed to dry him off as carefully as possible (the towels still came away stained red) and get the swordsman into a pair of boxers. Usopp had found a pair of pants and a shirt too, but Sanji decided to forego those for the present moment, as it would only make tending his injuries in the infirmary more difficult. Sanji carried their wounded, but now thankfully much cleaner and less rancid-smelling first mate into the infirmary, and Usopp followed with the clothes and a highly worried expression.

Nami-san was waiting, and gestured quickly for Sanji to set Zoro down on Chopper's examination table. She had laid a sheet out over it quickly to keep it clean and make it a little more comfortable, and as Sanji set him down she slipped a spare pillow behind the swordsman's head. The cot in the corner was made up as well, presumably for when they finished looking after his wounds.

"Usopp, I know you weren't on watch tonight, but do you think you could..." Nami-san began, as she started setting jars and bottles down on a small nearby desk.

"Don't worry about it, Nami," Usopp agreed earnestly, obviously glad to be of some use. "We've got it covered. Let me know if you need anything!" And he trotted out of the room, looking a little relieved to be away from the sight of their swordsman.

"I'm going to need your help, Sanji-kun," Nami-san said tiredly.

"Of course, Nami-san," Sanji said immediately, not that he'd had any intention of leaving to begin with. Without Chopper there, there wasn't much that they could do, but he and Nami-san probably had the next closest understanding of medical knowledge out of all of those currently on the ship. Nami-san was well read and seemed to understand a little of everything. And Sanji was equipped with some herbal lore—it came with the kitchen—and plenty of experience dealing with his own injuries on the Baratie. Not to mention personal experience with starvation.

He shuddered.

Their work lasted well into the night. They had found Zoro a few hours after nightfall, and it was nearly two in the morning before they finally finished tending him. He had a number of scars, both new and old—some they recognized from before Kuma's attack, and some were much fresher. Most of them had broken open with the bath water, but needed to be re-cleaned with careful attentiveness to each gash and cut, treated with antiseptics and some of Chopper's special salves, and bandaged. A few of the scars were infected, and they did the best they could with them in Chopper's absence. He was running a fever, possibly as a result of the infected injuries, but there was little they could do about that other than wet his forehead and throat down with cool cloths as they worked; there was no way they could get any fever medication into him in his unconscious state, and they didn't dare touch anything that required syringes. His arm, the one Nami-san had reported as 'wrong,' turned out to be dislocated (they thought). Nami-san seemed to remember reading about it before, and did her best to re-set it, though she worried over it constantly and rechecked it again and again to make sure she hadn't inadvertently injured their swordsman further.

Stunningly, Zoro had no broken bones, despite all his frantic thrashing and brittle appearance. Sanji was exceedingly grateful for that. If anything _had_ been broken, they wouldn't have known how to treat it, and if it didn't kill him it would certainly have healed poorly. Even so, after stepping back hours later and staring in exhaustion at their handiwork, Sanji couldn't help but exchange grim looks with Nami-san across the table. There was still a high chance Zoro wouldn't make it through the night, not with all the stress his body had been put through today on top of his already poor condition. Sanji placed the swordsman on the infirmary's cot as Nami cleaned up the examination table, and both pulled up chairs nearby, unwilling to leave the swordsman unattended in case he needed them in the night.

Despite their worries, however, Zoro managed to pull through to the morning, proving that at least some of his fighting willpower had survived the ordeal. He remained steadily unconscious, however, even when Nami-san started giving loud orders to get the _Thousand Sunny_ sailing as far from that depressing rock as they could. Nor did he wake at the familiar tossing of the waves, at the visits from the crew members currently present, or at Nami-san and Sanji's re-examination of his injuries that evening to check on their progress. The infections seemed a little better and his fever had dropped slightly, and while it wasn't exactly encouraging, Nami-san declared it progress.

"All we can do is tend to these injuries and wait. Zoro has to do the rest," she said, grim but determined. "In the meantime we can try to get back to the Sabaody Archipelago, and hopefully Chopper made it there since then."

Sanji agreed with her assessment, and mentally urged their swordsman to hang on for just a little longer. But even if he managed to survive the fever and the infections, there was still something else of vital importance that needed to happen, and Sanji could feel the anxious warnings over and over again at the back of his mind: Zoro needed to eat. His already starved body was at the brink, and if he didn't wake up soon and get some sort of nourishment into his system, however little, he likely wouldn't make the journey to the Archipelago at all.

And so, worried and determined, Sanji could only sit back and let the waiting game commence.

* * *

If you saw the Skull Joke you get a cookie :)

It's a short one. My apologies. I needed to do a little setting up for next chapter, which is much, much longer. :)

As usual, if you leave a review, please give it some substance! Compliment or con-crit, I enjoy them all as long as they're filling :)

~VelkynKarma


	3. Delirium Trigger

**Mindshattered**

Part three of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Cookies:** Go to only one person, **Blue Rowan**. Good job Blue for spotting my rather subtle Skull Joke :) Incidentally, it was _"Certainly," the skeleton said. His bony face couldn't frown, but Sanji could still hear the__** grave **__concern in his voice._ :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why _will_ you say that I am mad?"

~The Tell Tale Heart

* * *

Three days after they left the island, they finally saw some results. Usopp came running to Sanji's galley early in the morning, poked his head in, and said breathlessly, "Nami sent me—Zoro's up, and it looks like he's staying awake for a while this time!"

Sanji didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in the kitchen in all his life. He'd been slicing vegetables for that afternoon's lunch, but at Usopp's sudden intrusion he quickly threw a clean dishtowel over them for safekeeping. Thankfully he hadn't started any other major preparations yet, which meant he could get out of there quickly.

He retrieved a bowl from the counter where he'd left it for just this purpose and ladled some of the contents from the large pot on the back burner into it, filling it about halfway, before bolting for the door. Zoro might be awake for now, but they still didn't know how long it would last, and Sanji had to get some sort of nourishment into him soon or he wasn't going to make it. The broth in the pot he had specially prepared just for Zoro's condition, and he'd left it constantly simmering just to make sure it was ready at any time of the day or night. Its contents were bland, and rather flavorless, but that hardly mattered in this situation; it was full of nutrients, with a tiny amount of protein that he'd shredded so finely one could swallow without chewing. Zoro's stomach should be able to handle it, and it would start putting flesh back on his bones.

Sanji made it to the infirmary in record time, then slowed down so as to not seem like he was rushing. If Zoro was coherent, he didn't want the man to think he was _worried;_ besides the teasing that would inevitably be involved, he didn't think the man would appreciate it anyway. And if he was still out of it, unable to recognize them in his state of partial delirium, then it would be better to not startle him. He hadn't reacted well to sharp movements back in the cell, after all. The last thing Sanji needed was for the swordsman to think he was being attacked when they were just trying to get a little food into him.

Nami-san was taking her shift watching Zoro, and looked up when Sanji entered. He greeted her enthusiastically, and she smiled pleasantly in return before her face fell. Sanji gave her an inquisitive look, and she merely shook her head.

"He doesn't recognize me again," she explained slowly. "When I asked he shook his head and muttered something. I think talking hurts his throat."

"Not really surprising," Sanji sighed. They'd only managed to get a tiny bit of water into him until now, in the brief moments when he woke, so his throat was sure to be dry. Turning his attention to the swordsman on the infirmary's cot, he set the bowl down on the desk next to it and leaned over, meeting the man's eyes. "Hey. Marimo. Know who I am?"

Zoro's only response was a rather baleful look. It had Sanji rather hopeful for a moment until he realized he wasn't responding to the nickname, but rather Sanji's intrusion into his personal space. Sanji sighed and withdrew a pace, and moments later Zoro's gaze drifted away, unfocused.

Still delirious, then. Sanji shook his head and met Nami-san's hopeful expression, only to shake his head almost apologetically. Sanji wasn't really surprised at that either, though. He remembered being in the medical bay of some ship or another during his own recovery, seeing things that weren't there, people that weren't alive. He knew there were any number of factors that could cause it, including nutrient deficiency and dehydration, both obvious problems in Zoro's case. Once they got a little more into him, he'd probably recover from that too. But until then, they were going to have to deal with a nakama that didn't know who they were or whether or not he was safe.

Zoro was now staring fixedly at some spot on the far wall of the infirmary with a frown of confusion on his face, and Sanji decided to draw him back as much as he could into the real world before he fell asleep again. Picking up the bowl of cooling broth, he held it squarely in the swordsman's line of sight and said calmly, "Hungry?"

He _knew_ the answer was yes, unhesitatingly_ yes_, but the reaction was still more than a little startling all the same. Zoro's eyes snapped to the bowl with a burning, almost desperate greed, the same look Sanji had seen in dozens of pirates' eyes on the Baratie, the same look he knew he'd once had himself. Zoro's hand twitched weakly, as if he wanted to snatch the bowl away before Sanji could remove it, and Sanji didn't even bother to feel insulted over that. He'd never taunt people with food, ever, no matter the circumstance, but Zoro was sick and not even in his right mind and couldn't even begin to comprehend that.

But there was something else there, too, something that sent cold fingers of confusion and worry running up Sanji's spine. Zoro's eyes were fixated on the bowl with obvious need, obvious hunger, but they were _wary_ too, almost fearful. Sanji chalked it up to panic that the food might be removed, but something in his gut told him that wasn't the case.

Still, he didn't really have time to debate with himself over an obviously starving man's reaction to food. People did crazy things when they were hungry. He could attest to that himself. So he enlisted Nami-san's help in sitting the swordsman up, sat down on the side of the bed, held Zoro up with one hand around his shoulders, and brought the bowl of broth to the hungry man's mouth.

He expected the swordsman to lap at the bowl's contents greedily, to try to swallow it all as fast as possible, and was prepared to pull the broth away quickly to keep the man from making himself sick. What he _hadn't_ expected was for Zoro to emit a choking, strangled rasp and recoil, snapping his head back with such force that he nearly gave Sanji a black eye in the process.

Sanji jerked back, startled, and managed to keep the contents of the bowl from splashing every which way. Then Zoro surprised him again. One of his thin arms came up slowly—but still with far more speed than Sanji had ever expected of him, in his current state—and slapped the bowl from Sanji's hand.

The cook made a grab for it and missed. The bowl hit the ground with a clatter, splashing broth all over the floor and on Nami-san's legs and sandals, causing her to yelp in surprise and leap up from her seat. Sanji turned to apologize, but then Zoro was moving again, thrashing madly as he tried to free himself from Sanji's tenuous grip around his shoulders.

_Prioritize,_ Sanji told himself firmly, and as much as he hated to admit it Nami-san's apology was just going to have to wait. He leapt up from the bed quickly, dodging one of Zoro's wildly flung arms, and grabbed the swordsman by the shoulders. Before Zoro could wrench himself free, Sanji forced him back down onto the bed and kept him there, shifting his grip to the man's upper arms after a moment or two to minimize the weak attacks.

Under normal circumstances, holding him down would have been impossible. Sanji had never been a match for Zoro in terms of pure strength alone. They had always been fairly even in a fight, but Zoro had far more brute muscle and pure power, while Sanji focused on flexibility and agility to win their spats. But that wasn't the case anymore, and the cook found himself forcibly overpowering Zoro's thrashing with arm strength alone. Zoro simply didn't have any muscle anymore, and what strength he was currently exhibiting came from little more than a weak adrenaline burst, Sanji was sure. It would wear out momentarily, and if one or two punches hit Sanji in the meantime while he held the swordsman down, they caused him to emit little more than an annoyed grunt.

Zoro was still thrashing, but Sanji could see the desperate fight fading slowly from his eyes, replaced quickly by exhaustion. He just had to be patient. He didn't entirely know what had caused that reaction, but he had to make sure Zoro didn't hurt himself with his wild attempt to fight back against...whatever had set him off. Too bad they couldn't keep him from wasting what little energy he'd clawed back in his three days of rest...

"N-nami-san," Sanji rasped, as the struggling started to slow, "Are you alright?"

"Of course, Sanji-kun," she answered a little shakily. Sanji managed to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye; she was staring at Zoro's furious, panicked struggling as though mesmerized, or horrified, or both. "It wasn't that hot, and it'll wash out. What...what's going on?"

"Not sure," Sanji answered. He grunted slightly as Zoro got a lucky shot to his stomach, but it didn't really hurt. "Don't know why he's panicking. He's delirious, maybe he saw something..."

"I don't think so," Nami-san said with a frown. "You couldn't see his face from your angle but...when you tried to feed him he looked_ scared._ Like he didn't want to eat what you were giving him." She looked nervous, and confused. "But he's starving...he'd want to eat anything, wouldn't he?"

Sanji was frowning now, too, and staring down at the thrashing swordsman contemplatively. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, he should...Nami-san, would you do me a favor?"

"Er...sure," she said, a little hesitantly. "What?"

"There's a pot in my galley, on the back burner," he explained carefully. "If you would be so kind as to fill another bowl with the broth in it, and bring it back here? I don't want to let him up until he's finished," he added, gesturing to the still weakly fighting Zoro with a quick nod of his head, "or he could hurt himself."

"Sure," Nami-san answered, and she was off in a flash to do as asked. Sanji gave himself a brief moment to sigh over how lovely she was when looking after her crew mates, but then turned his attention back to Zoro.

"Hey," he said, slowly at first. The swordsman didn't respond, and Sanji made his voice sharper, more commanding. "Hey! Look at me, you bastard!"

That did it. Zoro's eyes met his, and Sanji was privately stunned at what he saw. They were full of fury, and hunger, but stronger than even those was the exhaustion, the wariness, and a resigned sort of fear—like he'd realized he'd lost the battle, and now had to deal with the consequences.

Sanji saw it, but did his best to school his expression, keeping it serious and determined. "Listen up, marimo," he growled. "I know you're in there. Things are probably real confusing right now, and delirium makes it harder to focus. Trust me. I _know_. But listen the hell up, 'cause I'm only saying this once. I don't know who the fuck did this to you, but I promise we're gonna kick his ass to hell and back when we find him. Luffy's already looking. I don't know _what_ this bastard did to you, but I can see what you're like now, and I promise I'll get you through it. And I don't know what the fuck he put in your food, _but I take my food seriously, and I don't pull that kind of crap_. Got it?"

Zoro was breathing heavily now, pained rasps that forced their way out of his throat, and Sanji realized he'd stopped fighting, _finally_. His eyes flickered ever so slightly, and he still regarded Sanji warily, but not quite with the same hunted look he'd had before. Sanji nodded grimly and released his arms, very slowly, feeling a little guilty when he realized he'd left faint bruises behind. It was a small price to pay, considering Zoro was thankfully free of any broken bones, but it was a sharp reminder of just how fragile the man was right now.

"Here you go, Sanji-kun," Nami-san said, choosing that moment to re-enter the infirmary. There was a new bowl in her hands, filled considerably higher than the one Sanji had first prepared, almost to the rim. Sanji sighed. It would suit his purposes for now, but he'd have to explain to her later that Zoro's stomach couldn't handle that much at the moment, and that he _wasn't_ trying to starve their swordsman. Otherwise there would be problems in the future.

But he accepted the bowl with a smile. "Nami-san is so helpful," he said, genuinely meaning it. He'd make her something extra-special later as a thank-you.

Zoro's eyes were focused again on a random point on the far side of the infirmary, and his eyes were half-lidded, a dangerous sign. His burst of adrenaline and desperate struggle had probably drained him of most of the energy he'd managed to recover, and he was liable to fall asleep at any moment. If he did, who knew when he'd wake up again. It could be too late to rescue him, or it could be not at all.

Keeping that in mind, Sanji moved quickly. Still holding the bowl in one hand, he snapped his free fingers quickly to gain the swordsman's attention and added sharply, "Hey. Look at me," once again.

The command had seemed to work last time, and it worked this time as well. Zoro's flickering, unfocused gaze worked its way lazily to Sanji, and then more sharply to the bowl of broth. The same half-desperate, half-fearful light filled his eyes once more, but this time Sanji knew it for what it was, and this time he knew how to counter it too. "It's food," he said, gesturing with the bowl slightly, enough for Zoro to see it was full, "And it's not poisoned." And then, to the surprise of both Nami-san and the swordsman, he tipped back his head and downed half the bowl's contents himself.

Nami-san gave a strangled squawk and half-yelped, "Sanji-kun, that was for _Zoro!_" But Sanji didn't have time to explain, not now. He had Zoro's full attention now, but he didn't know how long it would last before delirium or sleep seized hold of his mind once again, so he had to work fast.

Setting the bowl down on the desk next to the bed, the cook once again sat their weakened swordsman up, this time leaning him back against his own chest; after his recent expenditure of energy Sanji doubted the man would even be able to hold his own head up. Zoro's arms flopped uselessly, and he groaned slightly as he was moved, but this time offered no protest. So far so good. Sanji nodded, snatched the bowl from the desk, and held it before the swordsman's eyes, allowing him to see that there were no tricks involved: Sanji really _had_ drank half the contents.

"It's food," the cook said again, firmly, matter-of-fact, and then held the bowl to the swordsman's mouth once more.

This time Zoro didn't attempt to pull away or fight back, for which Sanji was thankful. He couldn't fault Zoro for his last recoil after what the man had been through, but it still sent a pang of annoyance and frustration through his mind every time he glanced down at the broth still staining the floor from the first bowl, completely gone to waste.

No, this time Zoro drank; tentatively at first, as though still unsure or wary of the bowl's contents, but progressively more greedily, almost violently, as he began to realize just how desperate for the nourishment he really was. Twice Sanji had to pull the bowl away from him to keep him from taking too much, too fast and making himself sick. It would do him no good at all if he threw it all back up again as soon as he'd gotten it into his stomach. Both times he'd ordered the swordsman to slow down with a sharp warning, and both times Zoro had responded with something partway between a whine and a curse. Sanji decided to himself it was the latter, because it meant Zoro was probably recovering enough to be_ Zoro_, at least, even if it was still rather unintelligible.

Despite carefully monitoring how fast he drank the broth, Zoro was still done depressingly quickly. Sanji took the bowl away and tried to ignore how Zoro's hands scrabbled weakly, as though trying to grab it; or how his head followed it with surprisingly surety, as though it were a lifeline. He was clearly still hungry, and the cook part of Sanji's mind reasoned that maybe it would be okay to give him just a _tiny_ bit more, wheedled against his common sense to carry out his _feed everyone_ instinct. But his knowledge, and the darker memories from his past, won out. Zoro couldn't handle more than what he'd already had, not yet, and Sanji wouldn't risk killing him. It was a cruel sort of mercy.

So instead he supported the swordsman carefully while he freed himself from the bed, set Zoro back down against it. The swordsman managed to get a grip on one of the cook's wrists, and Sanji met his eyes with surprise, nearly recoiled when he saw the desperation, the _pleading_, in them. Zoro was _begging_._ Zoro_ was begging!

"Sorry," he rasped, and he really, truly meant it. "That's all you get for now. Go to sleep, there'll be more when you wake up."

Zoro opened his mouth to argue, managed to cough something out that might have been _bastard_, but then his exhaustion from the morning's events caught up with him. He groaned slightly as he fought his drooping eyelids, but was asleep in only a few moments. It would do him some good. Rest, combined with newly acquired and desperately needed nutrients, would go a long way.

"Sanji-kun..."

Sanji jumped, startled. He'd completely forgotten Nami-san was even there. "Ah! Yes, Nami-san? How may I be of service?" he asked, as he bent to collect the first, thrown bowl.

"Why didn't you give him more?" Nami-san asked, with a frown. "He's starving, that obviously wasn't enough. I mean, I know you don't like Zoro, but..."

Sanji did his best to keep his hurt expression from his face, but she clearly picked up on it. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean it like that—"

"I want to give him more," Sanji explained, very carefully, cutting her off before she could apologize further. "Believe me, if he could handle it, nothing would make me happier. I don't starve my nakama, even if they are lazy rude marimo bastards." He gave a weak grin, but it wasn't much of a joke, and went on slowly. "But...do you know anything about starvation, Nami-san?"

The question was almost hesitant, and her response was much the same. "Not really," she admitted slowly. "I know it's sometimes a common cause of death for shipwrecks on the seas, but I don't know how to treat it, or anything..."

"I do," Sanji said, very seriously, and hoped he wasn't putting too much of himself into that voice, because he wasn't quite sure he was ready to let her know that he knew from personal experience, and not just treating starved pirates on the Baratie. "The human body will start consuming itself after a while if there's no food to be had. First muscle, then fat, and the body starts shutting down unnecessary functions in order to save energy and cope. It's called starvation mode. The body adjusts to having almost nothing, and lasts a little longer by spreading itself thin." He blinked with a start; it was nearly the same lecture he'd been given by the doctors years ago, when they'd attempted to explain his own situation to a terrified, hungry little kid.

Nami-san was nodding in understanding, however, and didn't seem to pick up on the fact that he was reciting more than explaining. "Okay. I get it so far."

Sanji was thankful Nami-san was such a good pupil. This would have been much harder with Luffy, that was for sure. "When you start re-introducing food to a starving body, you have to take it slowly. It's not used to having much of anything, so you have to build up its ability to handle food again carefully, because it's taught itself to go without food for so long it doesn't know what to do when it _has_ it. See?"

Nami-san frowned. "Is that why you only gave him broth?"

Sanji nodded, pleased despite the seriousness of the topic that Nami-san picked up so fast. "That's right. I shredded a little chicken into it just for some additional protein, but he won't be able to handle too much of that right now. His stomach won't be able to handle anything more than a serving about that size, so I'm just going to start by giving him a lot of small but nutritional meals slowly on a semi-regular basis. Once he's got a little more in him I can gradually work him up to larger meals and more solid foods, but...it's going to be a while."

Nami-san was still frowning. "You'd know best...but...Sanji-kun? What happens if he _does_ have too much?"

Sanji's expression turned grim. "Nothing good, especially this early. At best, he'll throw it up again."

"At _best_? What's the _wors_t, then?"

Sanji stared off to one side, could feel his memories beating at his mind viciously. He tried to compose himself as best as he could and answered quietly, "It could cause him to go into shock. Any number of things could happen then...he could go into convulsions, have breathing problems, his heart could stop...he could even fall into a deep sleep and just not get up again." He swallowed and added, "It's called refeeding syndrome. I'd rather avoid it if we can."

Nami-san's eyes were wide with horror, but she nodded in agreement. "Right. Listen, Sanji-kun...I wouldn't trust Luffy with this, but if you need my help with anything, just let me know what to do. And I'm sure Usopp could help out, too."

"Nami-san," he said, delighted, and with genuine relief, "You're simply wonderful! Once I have this cleaned up, I promise I'll make you a delightful snack to celebrate your loveliness!"

She laughed. "That sounds wonderful, Sanji-kun," she said, but then her expression sobered. "One more thing."

He paused from where he'd been mopping up the spilled broth with a spare towel from the infirmary. He didn't like the tone in her voice, but tried to ask neutrally, "Nami-san?"

"He didn't want to eat at first...is that part of recovery too?"

Sanji frowned. "No. No, it isn't. If I had to guess, I'd say whoever locked him up only fed him when he was trying to get something else into him...maybe a drug, or a poison."

"And...you think he thought you were trying that too?"

"It's possible," Sanji said. "He's out of his mind anyway, he doesn't know it's me. Zoro normally knows I don't spike peoples' food, you don't treat food that way."

And he privately promised himself that he was putting his foot straight through Zoro's captor's face, whenever he found him. That was, if Luffy didn't thrash him first. It was a slightly uplifting thought, and he retreated to his galley to fix his promised snack for Nami-san and resume lunch.

* * *

He knew, as soon as he stepped foot into his castle, that somebody had been there.

It wasn't that the doors were unlocked. They always were, and he never bothered to do otherwise. His island was on the maps, but everyone knew it had been abandoned for years, and rumors about ghosts and ghouls kept them away well enough. It wasn't the footprints in the dust, either. There were certainly plenty, but he and his hired crew made hundreds of them as well, when they stopped by the base, and these ones were so muddled it was hard to determine if they belonged to friend or foe. No, it was the air; it was no longer stale and bland, the way it always was when he first returned back to his closed-up castle. There was a breath of fresh air in it, as though the doors had been opened and the place aired out not too long ago, though it was a faint trace now, barely a whisper.

Somebody had come traipsing around while he wasn't in. That did not bode well.

The first thing he did was run for the dungeons. There were valuables in the place, but he hardly cared if the intruder was a mere thief interested in stealing gold. With the amount of money he made on big-time bounties he could easily win back the beris and buy new valuables if he so desired with only one or two heads. The _really_ valuable possessions were in the dungeon, and if the thief was more than just a thief and found them...

He frowned as he reached the dungeon's wooden door. This he did keep locked, with a new, state of the art padlock he'd purchased with well-earned bounty money, but that hadn't stopped the intruder. The padlock still hung from the stone door frame, securely fastened, but the thick-paneled door itself had been shattered to pieces that lay scattered about the hallway and the stairs inside.

Things were looking worse by the second. Eyes narrowed in suspicion now, he dashed down the steps at a run, not bothering to find and light one of his torches. He pulled the lighter he used for his alchemy from his pocket, and drew a long-bladed knife from the sheath he kept hidden under his jacket, just in case. He hadn't seen any ships outside, but that didn't mean there was nobody here.

There was, in fact, nobody down in the dungeons, at least nobody living. The first three cells visible by his lighter's faint cast were still securely fastened and held no ambushers. There was a torch cast on the ground where he certainly hadn't put it, however—he liked to think he was quite neat with his materials, what he did have—and that meant someone unauthorized certainly _had_ been down here. He slipped the long-handled knife back in its sheath, bent to pick up the torch and light it, and began a more thorough examination of the cell block.

The girl he'd captured, Perona she'd said her name was, was thankfully still present. A quick glance told him she was quite dead, however. Well, it was unfortunate, but only a minor inconvenience. No matter how much research he did he couldn't seem to turn up a bounty for her, making her a virtual unknown. He'd only kept her around to study her Devil Fruit power and wring information out of her regarding Gecko Moria's weaknesses. The man's bounty had been rescinded after all, but one never knew how long that would last; Crocodile was a perfect example of that. It never hurt to be prepared, especially with _that _large a bounty on the line.

His other catch was of _much_ more considerable value, however, in terms of both bounty and extremely useful information. He hurried down the cell line to the last, and hissed when he saw the cell door wide open and its insides completely empty.

He sighed. Roronoa Zoro, the infamous former bounty hunter like himself, and now completely vanished! Not that he'd originally been hunting the swordsman. He'd returned from another trip two months ago to find the Straw Hat first mate wandering around _his_ island, along with that annoying ghost girl. He'd approached the situation cautiously, thinking that the other Straw Hats would be nearby—by all reports, they always traveled together, were more tight-knit than anyone had ever seen before. But the swordsman had been quite alone, and he as a bounty hunter wasn't a complete novice after all. He'd sealed the deal in a day and hauled them off to his cells until he could figure out what to do with them.

The man's bounty alone made him a worthwhile catch, dead _or_ alive. Even with thirty percent skimmed off the top for a dead turn-in, he'd still be worth over eighty million beris. It had been tempting to leave right away with the swordsman and turn him into the nearest Marine base for some fast cash. But he was a bounty hunter that went after _big_ rewards, and he'd survived doing that for ten years due to a certain amount of cleverness. Pirates, especially ones with a high bounty, were bound to know things even if they didn't realize it. The trick was getting them to talk, but he'd been an expert at getting even the most loyal, tight-lipped men and women to spill their innermost secrets for years.

And Roronoa Zoro was part of a crew that was collectively worth seven hundred _million_ beri. They wouldn't have accrued that much worth without being deadly, but their first mate was bound to know their weaknesses, know who to target first, know where they were. It would be worth holding onto him, squeezing every _drop_ of information from his mind; even if it killed the swordsman, he'd still be that much closer to collecting eight other worthwhile bounties.

Only, Roronoa Zoro had proved tougher to crack than most. He'd needed to resort to more desperate measures in order to try and break him, and each tiny scrap of information was painstakingly dragged free and claimed. Roronoa made him work to claw those remnants free, and he still hadn't been finished his studies with the man when he'd left to research Perona's bounty at the nearby marine base. He had been looking forward to another session tonight—he'd broken Roronoa too far, but had devised a solution to drag his memory back a little, and it was sure to yield results. But to find the man vanished put an unexpected damper on that particular plan.

The question now was, who had done it?

Not other bounty hunters, certainly. For one thing, he knew most of the ones in this area, and none of them would _dare_ to cross him even if they were dishonorable enough to try it. He was the undisputed hunting master when it came to these waters. But more importantly, if it _had_ been other bounty hunters—even ones outside their usual territory—they'd have taken both bodies, not just the one. Perona might not have a notable bounty, but a hunter might not immediately notice that, and it'd be a smart bet to take both bodies just in case. Even dead, she could potentially still be worth something, and no hunter would pass up that opportunity.

He didn't think it was a thief who'd gotten lucky, either. True, examining the cell door and the manacles told him whoever had broken in here was subtle and skilled in the arts of lock picking (he had very sturdy locks), skills that certainly _would_ belong to an expert thief. But if that was the case, they would have picked the padlock upstairs, not broken through his nice wooden door. It just didn't add up. He didn't think the marines were involved either; like the hunters, they would have taken the other body, if only for identification and disposal.

There weren't many options left, but he was inclined to think it was the Straw Hat Pirates themselves. He didn't have any particular evidence to base it off of, but he'd been a hunter for ten years not just through cleverness but through trusting his own gut, as well. Reports had said that the Straw Hats had made it to Sabaody along with most of the other new Supernovas, before mysteriously vanishing. But as nobody knew why, then for all he knew, they could have simply run. There was nothing saying they couldn't have turned up here looking for their wayward crew mate, and the reports _did_ say that they were very protective of each other. He'd gathered as much from his interrogations of Roronoa, as well. It was possible. In fact, the more he thought about it, it was likely.

It was also an opportunity, but he'd have to be careful about how he used it. He was strong, to be sure, and had taken down hundreds of large bounties in his time as a bounty hunter. But he was no fool. The Straw Hats were incredibly strong, and with their devotion to each other, they would be extremely deadly. _Especially_ if they were all together, and _especially_ if they had managed to recover their crew mate in the state he'd left the swordsman in. According to the stories, the sight of his interrogation's affect on the first mate would be enough to send the captain alone, Straw Hat Luffy, into a violent fit that would utterly destroy him if he didn't approach the situation carefully. Younger hunters might laugh such an assumption off, thinking the bond between crew mates or the captain's stupid grin on his poster as signs that the catch would be a breeze. But he remembered the days of Gol D. Roger all too well, knew just how deadly that could be.

It was an opportunity, but only if he was careful. He would have to think on how to use it.

There was little he could do in the cells for now, so he left them, stepped over the remnants of his wooden door (it would need replacing, he decided tiredly) and put out his torch. His next stop was two floors up to his alchemy lab. This, thankfully, had remained untouched, probably because he had installed a steel door instead of a wooden one that was very carefully locked. There were no signs of anyone trying to break inside, and his equipment was all safe and sound just as he left it.

He spent some time rearranging the bottles, powders, and other odds and ends on the inside. Doing so always helped him think, and thinking was what he needed most by now. By the end of the hour he had not only come up with a new idea for a serum to neutralize Devil Fruit abilities, but had also come up with a plan for how to get his bounty back.

Roronoa Zoro, the one hundred twenty million beri bounty, and any others with him.

* * *

Refeeding syndrome is a genuine threat. It's still being studied, but after cases of extreme malnutrition (starvation) there is an unfortunate window when too little nutrients will kill the patient, and too much could, too. It's a careful balancing act in order to help a person recover from severe malnutrition like this...and thankfully, Sanji's probably well aware of that!

"People doing crazy things when they're hungry" is another genuine response to starvation, too. Sanji's probably seen a lot of nasty things in his day. For example, a few participants in the Minnesota Starvation Experiment started mutilating themselves, and one even removed a few fingers, for no particular reason at all. Yeah. This is a thing that messes with both your mind AND your body...not pleasant.

As per usual, if you leave a review, please make it a thoughtful one! What was done well? What could be done better? I value con-crit and compliments alike!

~VelkynKarma


	4. Awareness

**Mindshattered**

Part four of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Surprise!** It turns out I won't be here all day tomorrow, so I'll give you this one a little early. :)

**Note:** So may I just say, I am absolutely _stunned_ at the level of response to this fic? Barely three chapters in and it already has 36 reviews, over 20 faves, nearly 30 watches, and over 1,000 views! You know what this means? It means you're all as maliciously evil for reading this as I am for writing it. Bahaha!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Recovery is a process, not an event."

~Anne Wilson Schaef

* * *

The next few days were rough, but Sanji considered them a success anyway. Now that Zoro had a little food in his system, his body seemed to react appropriately. He still spent a lot of time sleeping, far more than was normal even for Zoro, but it was _sleep_ more often than _unconsciousness_. He was waking up more and more often too, though never for long, and that allowed Sanji to get more small but nutritious meals into him on a semi-regular basis. Other times, Sanji was able to wake their swordsman up when he felt the man needed another dose of nutrients, though he tried to let Zoro rest as much as possible. It would go a long way towards his recovery.

Of course, there were downsides. Three more days had passed, but Zoro still hadn't recovered some semblance of lucidity. It meant that his waking moments were awkward at best. Nami and Usopp, who usually sat with Zoro to keep watch on him, often reported their swordsman dazedly staring at things in confusion where there was nothing but wall or air, and more than once he had apparently started talking to people who weren't present either. Sanji had witnessed that himself, and it had been terribly disturbing to see Zoro holding a conversation with a few motes of dust in a shaft of sunlight, dazed and slurred though his speech was. He'd needed a smoke break after that.

Even worse was that Zoro still hadn't managed to recognize any of his crew mates, either. All of them had come to visit at some point, even Luffy (who they tried to keep away when they could; he was too rambunctious and couldn't seem to comprehend just how fragile Zoro was) and Brook (who had been relegated to Luffy-watching duty, to keep him entertained and out of the way). Zoro hadn't once acted with any semblance of recognition, and more often than not his eyes and his focus would drift away in the middle of one of the Strawhats' attempted conversations.

Most disturbing was that sometimes Zoro mistook them for other people entirely, as a part of his delusions. This happened to both Sanji and Nami-san the most, as they were the ones most often attending him. Nami-san had reported being addressed as Robin, Perona, some person named 'Kuina' (whoever that was), and Vivi on four separate occasions. Sanji himself had been addressed by Zoro as Johnny, Yosaku, Mihawk, and 'Sensei,' presumably his sword master as far as the cook could figure.

The worst had been when he'd gone to deliver another serving of the broth to Zoro, only to have the man stare at him in horror and recoil. When Sanji had gotten closer Zoro had tried to fight him, pathetically weak though his attempts were, and had broken several of his scarred wounds open again in the process. Sanji could only guess the swordsman was seeing his captor instead of the cook, not that it made him feel any better about the whole mess. Zoro hadn't stopped fighting until Sanji retreated from the room, with Zoro's enraged and panicked yelling filling his ears, sending chills down his spine. It had taken the combined efforts of Usopp and Nami-san to hold the wounded swordsman down and calm him until he fell into an exhausted sleep. He hadn't eaten during that session, and Sanji had a deep-seated fear that Zoro had burned up too much of the energy the cook had worked so hard to get back into him, that he might not wake up again. But Zoro proved tenacious even now, and eight hours later he was awake again, apparently without memory of the incident.

Two more days passed, making it over a week since they had first found their wounded nakama in that dark cell. They still had no idea how he'd gotten there. And though both Sanji and Luffy especially wanted to find out and punish the man responsible, Sanji, at least, understood the necessity of getting as far as possible from that miserable rock as they could. If somebody had imprisoned Zoro like that so easily, there had to have been a purpose involved. If that was the case, they might come back after him, and Zoro was too weak to even attempt to defend himself. Even the slightest miscalculation in battle, the tiniest hit as the enemy fought to reclaim him, could kill their swordsman in his present state. They couldn't afford to risk it. Running felt cowardly, but letting their nakama die due to furious misplaced pride would be worse.

Sanji was trying to convince himself of this once again as he approached the infirmary with another bowl of broth, at roughly one in the afternoon. Zoro's waking hours followed no real schedule, which was hectic at best for the cook (he'd been woken in the middle of the night even, just to get much-needed nutrients into their swordsman when he could). But despite his normal dislike for the marimo, he couldn't bring himself to blame the man, not in this state. It was obnoxious, he decided, to have to worry so much over the swordsman. All the more reason to get Zoro better as quickly as possible, so they could go back to the nice, familiar routine of beating the crap out of each other.

There was no one in the infirmary other than its one patient. They had agreed that Zoro needed constant watching, especially in his delirious state, since they had no idea how he would react and if he would accidentally hurt himself again. As it was rather uneventful watching him _sleep_ most of the time, however, they usually just left the infirmary door open and stayed close by, listening for movement or deranged muttering. Usopp was presently 'on watch,' stationed not too far away with his small chemistry set out perfecting a new form of ammunition, and Sanji nodded to him briefly before stepping into the sickroom.

Zoro looked _much_ better than he had when they first found him, Sanji decided as his eyes automatically went to their swordsman, but that still wasn't saying much. He was still pretty heavily bandaged, though that wasn't a terribly uncommon sight for him. Some of the smaller gashes had started healing well, though after his panicked incident the larger ones needed more time. His fever had finally broken and left him yesterday, much to the relief of everyone on the crew; without Chopper there to deal with that particular illness, it had been a serious threat to his life. Best of all, Zoro had gained a little weight since returning to the ship. It was only a few miniscule pounds, and most of it fat, nothing at all compared to his previous thick muscle. But it was a start, and meant his body was reacting to being fed, at least. He still looked terrible, but Sanji was reasonably sure that he was out of deep water, as long as they continued handling the situation with the same care that they had been.

That was when Sanji realized that Zoro was awake, and staring right at him with a sharp, highly attentive gaze.

For one heart-stopping moment, Sanji thought that maybe Zoro was mistaking him for whoever had attacked him back on that island again, and he was getting ready to call for Usopp's help, and maybe Nami-san's as well. Then he realized that Zoro's expression wasn't one of grim determination or wild desperation. He looked exhausted, even with all the sleeping that he'd been doing, but there was a sort of tired recognition in those eyes as well. Sanji thought then that maybe Zoro was just recognizing him as the hand that fed him, so to speak. Despite Usopp's and even Nami-san's offers to help with Zoro's meals, Sanji had insisted on taking care of the delicate feeding situation himself. Zoro had never recognized him as _Sanji_ in his delirium, but his confused mind could probably still equate a face to meal times.

Still, Sanji wasn't entirely sure how to approach. Zoro had been unpredictable at best for the past week, and it was aggravating but necessary to have to walk on eggshells around him lest he be set off and something happened that they'd all regret.

Zoro made the decision for him. After meeting each other eye-to-eye for a good twenty seconds, the swordsman finally opened his mouth and said with a dry, throaty voice, "What the hell are you staring for, love-cook?"

Sanji was stunned, and the expression must have shown on his face, to judge by Zoro's confused one. Shaking his head, he stared at Zoro again and asked with surprise, "You know who I am?"

"Who else would you be?" Zoro coughed, and talking obviously hurt with his dry throat, but he managed to still rasp out, "Nobody else has a curly-brow like that."

Sanji scowled on reflex, and his foot twitched, but it wasn't terribly hard to restrain his anger. Zoro's still-skeletal appearance was enough to see to that. Instead he crossed the room in a few quick strides, set the broth down carefully on the desk beside the bed, and poured a glass of water from the jug he'd left there for just such a purpose. Then he frowned. Zoro probably still wasn't strong enough to sit himself up, let alone take a drink under his own power, but the man would be furious if he didn't at least get a chance to test his own ability out. And an angry Zoro was an impossible to deal with Zoro.

So, sighing, he held out the glass and with resigned, forced casualness, "Here. Better have a drink. It'll be good for your throat."

Zoro looked relieved at the thought of water, and shifted on the bed in what was obviously an attempt to sit up. Unfortunately, while he had been able to fling himself up in the depths of delirium and even fight against the crew with a good adrenaline burst, right now he was nothing but exhausted and weak. His limbs trembled visibly from the strain of trying to hold even his lacking body weight up, and after a few moments he fell back to the bed with a loud groan.

"Damn," he managed to rasp, voice still painfully dry sounding. "That _hurt_...what the hell..." His voice cut off as he started dry coughing, but he managed to give Sanji a weak but still warning glare that clearly said _go ahead and just _try_ to laugh._

But Sanji wasn't laughing. Zoro might expect him to start mocking him for his weakness, but there was nothing amusing about this situation in the least. Instead he shook his head quietly and said, "Your muscles have atrophied. You're not used to using them is all. It'll get better with time." And without waiting for further invitation, he sat down on the side of the bed, slipped one arm behind Zoro's shoulders, and carefully supported him before shoving the glass of water unceremoniously to the swordsman's lips.

Zoro looked surprised, and more than a little embarrassed at the treatment. He'd had a few similar injuries in the past, but it had always been Chopper to help him with things like drinking or sitting up, not his rival. Sanji could understand. If the situation wasn't so dire, requiring his specific expertise, he probably would have insisted someone else deal with the situation instead. It was just as awkward for him as it was for Zoro, after all.

But despite that, Sanji knew Zoro wouldn't be able to resist the need for water, or his own obvious thirst, even to save his pride. And sure enough, as soon as the water hit his lips Zoro seemed to have forgotten the awkwardness of the situation in favor of gulping it down as fast as he could to sate his thirst and wet his dry throat. Sanji made sure he went slow, so he didn't choke or make himself sick, but otherwise said nothing. Nothing he could say would make the situation better.

When he'd finished the water, Sanji quietly set the glass down next to the still lightly steaming bowl of broth and carefully let Zoro back down onto the bed. Now that he was lucid they could probably find some pillows or something to prop him up, but for now he'd just have to deal with laying down. Zoro was still frowning at the treatment, and carefully avoiding Sanji's eyes, but after a moment he spoke up.

"What the hell's going on," he said softly. His voice sounded noticeably better, less dry, but his voice was still low from lack of use.

Sanji frowned down at him. "You don't remember anything?" he asked slowly. "Nothing at all?"

"Not really," Zoro said. He stared up at the infirmary ceiling, brow furrowed in concentration. "Kuma...he sent me somewhere, a castle...met that ghost girl from Thriller Bark...tried exploring the island to find a way off...agh—!"

Sanji had been refilling the water glass, but at the strangled, unfamiliar noise Zoro made he hastily glanced over. He expected the man to be choking or something with _that_ sound, and was totally unprepared to find that Zoro's face had gone an interesting shade of white, so pale Nami-san's map paper probably had more color to it. His eyes were wide, staring but not really seeing, except if it was something in his own head, and Sanji could clearly see that same edge of desperation bordering on terror that he'd seen that day he'd tried to feed Zoro for the first time.

Sanji could have kicked himself. Zoro had only just regained lucidity; this was the first time he'd really been awake in what was probably _weeks_. Of course he wasn't ready to handle whatever had happened to him there. He could barely stay awake as it was! If his captor had been able to catch, imprison, starve, and possibly even torture Zoro for God only knew how long, then it would be someone their swordsman would not only remember, but might even fear. And that couldn't be healthy for him, not now.

The cook looked for something to distract Zoro. But the man reached up unexpectedly and managed to grasp hold of Sanji's wrist again, much like he had a few days ago. This time his eyes weren't full of pleading; they looked _afraid, worried_, much to Sanji's shock. Then, very slowly, very carefully, and with obvious concentration to keep his voice even, Zoro said, "You didn't see him, did you?"

Sanji had no idea who 'he' was, but even if he did, and _had_, he wouldn't tell Zoro anyway. He didn't need to work their swordsman's heart up, not now, or give his body any more strain than it had already been under. Zoro needed to take it easy. So Sanji looked him firmly in the eye, and said with as much confidence as he could muster, "No. I didn't."

"We left the castle?" Zoro asked next, still with the same concentrating tone. Sanji could feel his hand trembling, and his grip was shockingly weak, though whether it was from emotion or just the physical weakness of the body Sanji wasn't sure.

"Ages ago. It's been over a week."

"He's not following?"

"Haven't seen anybody in days," Sanji answered.

Zoro nodded, and suddenly looked more exhausted than ever. His sudden panic attack probably hadn't helped his health any. "Good. Keep running," he nearly whispered, and wouldn't meet Sanji's eyes anymore as he dropped the cook's wrist.

Sanji knew an opportunity when he saw one, and decided to distract the swordsman before he could work himself up more. "I brought you lunch," he said, indicating the bowl of broth. "Hungry?" Not that he needed to ask. He still knew the answer, even if Zoro would probably try harder to act like he didn't care.

Sure enough, Zoro's eyes flicked to his own, and then the bowl of food, with a lot more speed than usual. That hungry look was back, and wary too, the same thing Sanji had seen in him for the past three days. Well, at least Zoro knew who he was now, and wouldn't need constant reminding that his food wasn't poisoned. Sanji had been forced to prove it every time he brought a meal to Zoro, simply because the man forgot Sanji's insistence that he'd never put anything in the food every time a new mealtime came. But a lucid marimo, while considerably more annoying, would also know Sanji never messed with peoples' food, even if he disliked them.

"Sure," Zoro said slowly, after another moment or two of concentration. "I could do with a little lunch, I guess." He attempted to sound nonchalant, and Sanji tried to pretend he couldn't see that desperate gleam of hunger reflected in Zoro's eyes, for the swordsman's pride more than anything else. He didn't need to look to know it was there, anyway.

"I'll need to help you with it," Sanji said instead, stating the obvious. Zoro obviously still wasn't doing anything under his own power. Zoro grumbled in annoyance—_feigned,_ Sanji thought; he knew the man would do anything for a scrap of food by this point, knew it because _he'd_ have been willing to pay any price for a tiny meal at this juncture all those years ago. The grumbling turned into genuine pained groans as Sanji shifted him into a sit again, held him up with one hand, but there wasn't anything the cook could do about that.

"Drink it slow, or you'll make yourself sick," Sanji warned sternly, as he brought the bowl of broth around. He knew the warning would be ignored, but he felt obligated to say it anyway.

To his credit, Zoro actually managed to obey the warning for all of five seconds, obviously trying to restrain himself from gobbling the meal and making himself look a fool in front of the cook. That was far longer than Sanji had thought he'd last, with the smell of the broth in his nose and the taste of the liquid on his tongue, and the cook could see it was taking every scrap of the swordsman's considerable willpower and discipline to do so. But then reason and pride abandoned him, and suddenly he was attacking the bowl ravenously, even weakly raising his arms to try and tip it further so he could get at its contents faster. Sanji balanced Zoro against his shoulder and slapped the man's arms away carefully with his free hand, but resisted the urge to start shouting at the man even though a part of him dearly wanted to. Hunger always went beyond reason, and yelling wouldn't help anyway. He doubted Zoro would even hear him in his frenzied rush for food.

When he was done Sanji took the bowl away, and Zoro's pride and reason seemed to return to him full force. He looked ashamed; there was no other way to explain that unusual expression, though Sanji had never seen it on the man's face before. Probably because Zoro never regretted anything he did before. He refused to meet the cook's eyes as Sanji lowered him onto the bed again, and was probably expecting some sort of mocking comment about his inability to control himself, or some such thing. But Sanji once again remained quiet, pretended he hadn't seen the ravenous, desperate response to food, and didn't see the swordsman's obvious discomfort now.

It took a moment or two for Zoro to recover himself. Then he spoke, voice weak, still not quite allowing himself to meet Sanji's eyes. "Ugh, cook...that tasted like crap. What happened, you lose your skills when I was gone?"

"Tch...it's better than what I got," Sanji answered. He forced a sullen, annoyed tone into his voice, and maybe he would have been able to genuinely mean it if he couldn't see the obvious tension and desperation in Zoro's trembling body. Grimacing, he tossed one of the blankets over starving man, dragging it up to his shoulders while pretending he wasn't caring. He'd always felt desperately cold in the earlier days of his own recovery, and if that shivering was any indication then Zoro did, too, even if he'd never say it to save what was left of his own damn pride.

Zoro was giving him a funny look now, confused, and maybe a little contemplative. That's when Sanji realized exactly what he had said, and clicked his teeth shut rather sharply. Too late to play dumb, and Zoro was annoyingly perceptive now that he was actually fully conscious. If he was lucky, though, maybe the man'd mistake it for something else...

Thankfully, Zoro had never been one to pry to begin with, and the swordsman made no comment on the fact that Sanji had sounded a little too familiar with his own situation. Sanji was glad for that, even if he didn't like that brief flicker of annoyingly coherent observation in Zoro's eyes as the man likely tucked that comment away in the back of his mind.

He wondered, briefly, why he even cared if Zoro _had_ noticed. It wasn't that Sanji wanted to _hide_ his own past. He'd never exactly tried to make it a secret, and he was sure Luffy, at least, had picked up on it enough from his comments back on the Baratie to have some idea of his time on that god-forsaken rock. But it was a weakness in his past that he didn't like to think about, a situation out of his control that still terrified him, woke him up late some nights when he found himself back on that rock in his dreams. It was one thing for your captain to know your weakness, your fear. It was another thing entirely to arm your rival with that information.

Still, Zoro deserved to know at this point. He'd earned that right, Sanji thought grimly, as he thought back to that bony, filthy body they'd found in that dungeon cell over a week ago; earned the right for a little reassurance, to know somebody else had been to his personal hell and come back kicking. Sanji knew Zoro would probably find out eventually during his recovery, and he _knew_ with absolute certainty Zoro would never resort to such cheap shots anyway to win his fights, even if he hadn't been in this situation. Hell, Sanji might even volunteer to tell him first, before the swordsman even had to try piecing it together. He just wasn't ready to reveal that _now_. It was a little too personal, too intense, at this point.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sanji reached over to grab the empty bowl before turning to leave. "Usopp's right outside, if you need him. In case you get thirsty again, or anything. I'll be back right before dinner with your serving—"

"Wait," Zoro said, voice confused, surprised, and—that couldn't really be a twinge of pleading in there, could it? He hoped not. He could accept it in a delirious Zoro's voice, but it didn't belong in their swordsman's tone when he was sane again. "Where're you going? That's it?"

Sanji froze, back still to Zoro. He actually found himself afraid to turn around, because he didn't want to see the expression that could be on their swordsman's face, not if his voice was any indication of his current state of mind. "Yeah," he said instead. "That was lunch."

"Oh, come on, love-cook," Zoro said, and while his voice was harsh, the low growl that he always used when he was annoyed, there was an ever-so-slight undertone of something else, almost wheedling, with the tiniest trace of desperation. "You never had problems with seconds before. Hell, Luffy takes_ eighths_. What, we running low on supplies or something?"

Sanji winced, and felt a burst of anger that had him fisting his free hand tightly. That was a low blow, and nobody ever dared to insult his cooking or his food rationing on this ship (except for Luffy, but Luffy was an exception to that particular rule). Not to mention that Zoro was basically implying he was intentionally holding food back. Even worse was the fact that it was sort-of true; he _was_ keeping food from Zoro, even if it was for his own safety.

_He's starving_, Sanji reminded himself grimly. _It's understandable that food is all he'd be able to think about. It's not his fault_. He remembered it himself, back on that rock, and even months later when he was recovering; his thoughts, his daydreams, even his nightmares had revolved around food for hours at a time, days even.

So he grit his teeth to curb his temper, turned around, looked Zoro square in the eye, and said firmly, "Our supplies are fine. We have plenty of food. But you can't handle it right now, Zoro. Too much at a time right now could put you into shock, and you'll die." There. It was almost painfully frank and to the point, but with Zoro he had to be blunt or the situation could get even worse.

Zoro met his eyes, glared across at him, and Sanji could still see that hungry gleam behind the anger and frustration. Surprise flooded into that gaze when he could see that Sanji was dead serious, and the cook could practically _see_ the battle in his mind as Zoro tried to equate this new information with Sanji's pledge to keep everyone full and healthy.

And then, suddenly, Zoro broke the staring contest and began weakly scrabbling against the blanket Sanji had thrown over him. Sanji frowned, wondering if maybe the revelation about his meals had thrown their swordsman into some sort of mental relapse, but after a moment Zoro dragged one of his hands free and weakly held it up before his face. His arms and fingers trembled with the exertion of the task, but though it obviously pained him to move Zoro grit his teeth and refused to groan or cry out, instead stared at his appendage with grim resolve.

Then he said, very softly, almost in a whisper, "What the fuck happened to me?"

It was a question, but one Sanji refused to answer. He didn't think Zoro wanted a direct answer right now, and anyway, he was a little afraid to dredge up memories Zoro obviously wasn't ready to handle in his sickly state. So he stood there with an empty bowl in his hand, watched, and waited to see what his reaction would be.

He didn't have to wait terribly long. Zoro stared at his skeletal limb, saw how the thick muscles he'd worked for years to build up and maintain were simply _gone_, and suddenly seemed to snap. Determination and desperation fueled his movements, and though it had to be excruciating he managed to throw the blanket off and start sitting up, attempting to swing his legs out of bed.

"What are you doing?" Sanji asked with a frown. "You shouldn't get up yet—"

"Mirror," Zoro rasped curtly though a sharp groan. "Gotta see what happened to me. How bad."

Sanji's one visible eye widened. He tossed the bowl onto the examination table carelessly, a first for him. In one quick bound he had crossed the infirmary floor, grabbed Zoro's shoulders, and forced him back down onto the bed as painlessly as he could while still being firm. Zoro shouted in anger and tried to push Sanji away, a feat that would have been easy months ago with his level of strength. His expression melted from anger to surprise when he found that his push was not only ineffectual, but hurt, and that Sanji was able to overpower him easily with his own arm strength in a matter of seconds.

"What the hell, cook!" Zoro snarled, and struggled weakly to disengage. But fighting obviously hurt him, and Sanji had gotten enough practice holding the delirious Zoro down over the past few days that his grip was firm and unrelenting. He quieted down after a moment or two and glared hatefully up at the cook instead.

"You don't," Sanji said. He didn't raise his voice, didn't shout or argue, and yet somehow there was a powerful intensity to what he said.

"Don't _what_," Zoro said with a sharp cough. Sanji let go of him, grabbed the glass of water he'd poured earlier, and helped the swordsman drink it before setting him back down on the bed once more.

"You don't want to see yourself right now," Sanji answered when they were finished. There was a darkness to his voice that even he could hear, and he knew his expression probably reflected it despite every attempt to school his emotions and try to hide it.

Zoro was still obviously frustrated, but he seemed to pick up on that darkness as well. "How would you know?" he shot back, but the comment held little bite, just pent up anger that wasn't really directed at Sanji at all.

"I know," was Sanji's only answer, and unbidden he could see that skeletal face staring back at him hungrily in the reflection, in his dreams, in his darker nightmares. He shuddered, managed to turn away before Zoro could really see it. He thought. Hoped.

When he had himself under control again, he turned back to throw the blanket over Zoro's once again shivering body, and found the swordsman staring at him again with that same observing, not-quite-knowing but certainly suspicious expression. He could practically see the wheels turning in the swordsman's head, and all of a sudden he didn't want to be there anymore.

"Get some rest," Sanji ordered sharply. "Usopp's outside if you need him." He turned on his heel in a flourish, snatched up the discarded bowl—thankfully he hadn't cracked it, he would have been furious with himself if he broke his own dishes—and turned to leave.

"Cook."

Grimacing, Sanji paused. "Yeah?"

"How long."

It was a question, and vague though it was Sanji knew exactly what the swordsman was referring to anyway. He'd been dreading this part, too. "A while," he said, slowly, and tried not to let too much of his own experience into his voice. "Months at the very least. Might be closer to a year. You've done a lot of muscle training, though, so you might recover faster than a kid would." _Damn it_. He hadn't meant to say that last part. It was just too fucking hard to distance his memory from the current situation, not when they were so similar, and so violent.

He didn't turn around, didn't want to see Zoro's reaction. Zoro would be stoic in the worst of times, but this was something that directly interfered with his dream, and he wasn't sure how the swordsman would take it. He couldn't be a swordsman if he couldn't lift a sword. If Sanji was in the equivalent situation, he'd be crushed. He didn't know how Zoro would react, but he knew he didn't want to see a_ crushed_ Zoro.

But there was no answer from behind him, and after a moment Sanji stepped out of the infirmary, closed the door quietly behind him. Usopp looked up and gave him an inquisitive look.

"Zoro's awake," Sanji said curtly in answer to the unspoken question.

Usopp only frowned in response. "Then you should leave the door open," he said. "If he freaks out again like yesterday we need to see—"

"I mean he's _awake_," Sanji said, stressing the word. He set the bowl down on one of the railings long enough to pull out a cigarette and light up, taking a deep drag from it. He could feel the nicotine set to work at once, calming his rattled nerves after that encounter, but it would probably take a few more butts before he'd really feel like his old self again.

Usopp looked excited, however. "Really? You mean he's _Zoro_ again? That's great, I'll go—"

"Give him a few hours," Sanji ordered sharply, as Usopp made to get up and move for the door. The sniper froze, and Sanji realized he'd probably been a little harsher than he should have, but he couldn't help it. After that encounter he was lucky he hadn't gone and broken something on the ship yet with a furious kick or two.

"Um...okay...if you say so, Sanji," Usopp said, looking a little hurt and confused. Sanji sighed, apologized quickly, snatched up the bowl, and made a beeline for his galley. He needed to think, and he'd do it better alone.

* * *

Food obsession and food hoarding is a _huge_ and statistically proven response to starvation. I'm actually kinda surprised Sanji doesn't display any classic post-starvation survivor symptoms (unusual eating rituals, hoarding personal stores of food 'just in case,' or an insatiable appetite without ever actually feeling full are just a few of the possibilities).

Obsessing over food, constantly reading about food, and always noticing food is pretty common too and DOES fit him, but Sanji is a cook (and training for one before his starvation incident ever occurred) so it's hard to say if it'd be a direct result of severe malnutrition or just...him doing his job. (Oral fixations are pretty common response too; the participants in the Minnesota Starvation Experiment blew through 40 packs of gum a day. Sanji's cigarettes could be partly related to this, I suppose). The only reasonable explanation I can think of is that maybe he did it when he was a kid, and broke the habits/got over it before he joined the Strawhats...

You guys should know the drill by now! If you leave a review, please make it a thoughtful one! I enjoy both compliments and constructive criticism, as long as the responses are well thought out. :)

~VelkynKarma


	5. Psychologically Stubborn

**Mindshattered**

Part five of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"There are friends who destroy each other, but a real friend sticks closer than a brother."

~The Bible, Proverbs 18:24

* * *

Another two days passed relatively uneventfully, at least in terms of the sea travel itself. Nami-san guided the ship with all the speed she could get out of _Sunny_ (with a lovely concern for her nakama as far as Sanji could see it,) and Luffy, Brook and Usopp did whatever they could to contribute to that speed. The faster they reached Sabaody Archipelago, the better their chances were at meeting up with Chopper, and the faster their sickly crew mate would recover. They hoped.

Zoro proved difficult for a whole new reason, however. He'd had several more meals now, all administered by Sanji, who was still reluctant to give anyone else that particular job. But they rarely spoke at all, and the moments were awkward at best. Zoro hadn't asked any more questions, and usually avoided even meeting Sanji's eye when he could. Sanji wasn't sure if he was just distracted with his own situation and his raging hunger, or if he was shooting the messenger, metaphorically speaking. It'd be unfair, but this was Zoro they were talking about, and Sanji supposed he wouldn't be able to blame the man anyway.

It might have had something to do with his obvious embarrassment with the situation, too. Sanji had quickly come to discover that Zoro disliked anybody else being there while he ate. The one time Nami-san had been in the room, checking on Zoro's bandages, Zoro had pretended he wasn't hungry even though it was obvious to Sanji—and probably Nami-san too—that he was desperate for any form of sustenance. He'd kept up the charade until Nami-san left, and it was only when Sanji tried a different ploy—claiming to put the food away—that Zoro had hastily stopped him and agreed to take his meal. If Zoro could have eaten without help, Sanji supposed even he, the cook, would have been evicted, so that nobody could witness the swordsman's complete breakdown of discipline and control when he was within the vicinity of food.

Because, rather unsurprisingly to Sanji, Zoro _had_ no control when it came to food. He expected it, knew it would happen from personal experience, but their swordsman had rapidly become desperately obsessed with his meals. Zoro would still pretend to act like his old self, uncaring and nonchalant, when Sanji first entered the room with his latest dose of broth or soup. But like the first time he'd eaten while lucid, as soon as that meal was within his grasp that carefully built facade would crack. He would become almost uncontrollably ravenous, wolfing down his meal in seconds even with Sanji's careful control over the bowl's contents. When he had finished it always seemed as though he came back to himself, realized he'd completely lost control, and for the swordsman—who had been in control of himself following his discipline for years—this was one of the ultimate shames. Sanji knew he was furious that anybody had witnessed it, furious with _himself_ that he couldn't control it.

Sanji could have told him it was impossible, that there was no shame to it, not with everything he'd been through. But that would be taken as pity, and that would only make the situation worse. So instead he simply pretended, every time, that he never saw it, and never drew attention to it; never yelled, never lectured, only quietly pulled the bowl away when Zoro drank too fast, or slapped his hands gently away when the man tried to steal the food from him.

Worse still, Zoro made it nearly impossible for the others to help him in any other way. He had always been a terrible patient at best. Everyone on the crew was familiar with Chopper's frustrated lecturing when Zoro removed his bandages, disobeyed rules from the doctor, and remained stubbornly independent despite any and all wounds he'd received in the past. Now, despite his usual ability to bull through nearly any injury unfailingly, Zoro was heavily affected by his currently wasted away body.

When he was conscious (which was still rare, as he still spent the majority of his time sleeping, exhausted by his own weakened body) he was often still unable to do anything for himself short of pulling his blankets up higher or moving his pillow. Sanji still had to assist him with eating, and the others with drinking or sitting him up or (embarrassingly enough) even going to the bathroom. Moving still pained him, due to his stunted muscles and their lack of use, and all of them could plainly see it every time they watched him even so much as shift.

And yet the stubborn marimo absolutely refused to ask for help, when he could. Sanji _almost_ would have said he was trying to make up for something, except this was Zoro they were talking about, and the man had never regretted anything in his life. Whatever his reasons, even when it was obvious that Zoro needed a drink or that his body was paining him or any other number of factors, he refused to speak up and ask for aid from the other Strawhats.

It was thoroughly frustrating, and all five of them had been forced to practice the art of marimo-reading more than once, trying to figure out what he wanted or needed so they could help him without him asking for it. Thankfully, even when he fitfully protested their aid when they _did_ figure it out, Zoro was still too weak to drive them off and force them to stop. Nami-san was especially good at reading their swordsman, and Luffy had quite a knack for knowing when Zoro needed something as well, even if he wasn't in the room. Not that that was surprising. Luffy had always seemed to share a wavelength with Zoro from day one.

Still, the travel was difficult at best, and they all couldn't wait until they found Chopper again and turn Zoro over to his care. It wasn't that they weren't willing to look after him; the fact that they kept showing up, even after one of Zoro's stubborn, fitful refusals, was proof enough of that. But even on _good_ days, Zoro was frustratingly difficult to get along with. He was withdrawn and silent, and when they managed to pull him into some sort of interaction with his nakama—something that took a surprising amount of work—he was often moody and irritable. Because of that, it was hard for any of them to shake the feeling that something might be worse off than they thought, and they might not be seeing it without a doctor's expertise.

Sanji, who spent the most time looking after Zoro due to the interspersed meals he made, was almost positive something else _was_ going on. Not physically; he was reasonably sure he and Nami-san had done a good job finding all of the swordsman's wounds and tending them appropriately. But that didn't account for everything, and he knew a number of psychological factors could still pop up after whatever ordeals Zoro had been through.

The problem was, Sanji didn't know what was going through his head, those days. And he doubted he would ever figure out what the swordsman was thinking, either. Why he was so silent, and didn't ask questions about his situation. Why he seemed to avoid his nakama when allowed to. Why he had looked so afraid when Sanji inadvertently brought up memories of whatever he'd been through. And had they made it to Sabaody Archipaelago completely without incident, he doubted he ever _would_ have known.

But that was before the storm.

As far as the Grand Line went, this storm wasn't especially spectacular. It was small by comparison to some of the storms Sanji had been through in the past, on both the _Going Merry_ and the _Thousand Sunny._ But this one proved to be especially hard on them all the same. The _Merry_ had been a much smaller ship, far easier to man with only five people active, but the _Sunny_ was far larger and required much more attention. Furthermore, most of the _Sunny's_ special cola-powered systems designed to help with such troubles as storms were difficult to utilize, due to Franky's absence.

Usopp proved to be a decent enough stand-in for their shipwright considering the circumstances, however. And Nami-san was an expert at knowing exactly where and when to place Luffy, Brook and himself in order to deal with the gale. She stayed at the helm while roaring directions over the scream of the storm, and they managed to slowly begin clawing their way through it inch by inch, foot by foot.

Sanji was just helping Brook with a particularly difficult set of lines when it happened. They had broken free in the bucking of the ship, and Brook was having trouble securing them, as the wind kept wrenching the ropes from his brittle hands. Sanji assisted him with his own strength, and caught himself thinking it should be marimo's damned job to tie the things down; why waste two people on the job when one man's strength would suffice? But he remembered the man's predicament quickly enough, and could have kicked himself for being that stupid. Zoro wasn't well enough to be on deck, let alone in a raging storm trying to keep them alive.

They managed to secure the lines, and then the _Thousand Sunny_ gave a particularly vicious pitch, sending everyone scrabbling for handholds. Sanji managed to grab Brook by one wrist before he was flung overboard (the last thing they needed at the moment) before straining his ears for Nami-san's next instruction.

He heard her voice, but not before he heard a deep _thud_ as something fell in the bowels of the ship. It was coming from nearby, and sounded suspiciously close to the infirmary. Sanji's heart dropped to his stomach; Zoro could barely move as it was, and at present moment was little better than the cargo on deck they'd tied down before the storm truly hit, minus the _tying down_ part...

He dashed for the infirmary quickly, slipping on the rain-drenched deck, with Brook hot on his heels frantically calling for him to _come back, they were supposed to go to the forward deck next._ This was more important, and anyway, Sanji trusted Nami-san to get them through the perils of the storm even without his help, if only for a few minutes. She was most excellent when it came to navigating, after all, the best he'd ever seen.

He wrenched the infirmary door open and stepped inside quickly. One of the lamps had gone out in the wild swing of the storm, but the other was still lit, casting a weak, flickering glow throughout the room. The bottles of salve they'd been using to treat Zoro's wounds had smashed from not being put away properly before the storm hit, and their contents oozed on the floor amidst glass shards, but worse had happened before. More pressing to Sanji was the fact that Zoro was on the floor, tangled in a mess of blankets, and was bleeding from the side of his head that was currently pressed against the floorboards.

"Brook," he hissed, "help me here." He didn't really need to ask; the skeleton was already nimbly stepping over glass shards to reach their swordsman, but it felt at least like he was doing something. He leapt forward too, snatching the lamp from its hook. Between them they managed to detangle Zoro from the blankets, get him on his back, and give him a quick once-over for further injuries. Thankfully, other than a few spots of blood on the bandages from minor breaks in old wounds, and bruises along most of his left side where he'd hit the ground, Zoro was fine. He'd hit his head enough to start bleeding, and they'd have to see if he'd gotten a concussion, but at least he hadn't broken anything being flung like that.

The ship gave another almighty lurch, and Sanji could hear Nami-san yelling orders to Usopp and Luffy frantically. They needed to get back out there, but they had to make sure Zoro was alright too. Frowning, Sanji slapped the right side of his face gently, but with enough force to hopefully wake their swordsman. "Marimo. Get up!"

Nothing.

_"Zoro!"_ Sanji snarled again, a little impatiently, and gave him another careful smack. This time he got a response: Zoro groaned, and half-slurred, half-muttered a swear aimed in Sanji's general direction. That was good, but the way Zoro's stomach and chest bucked a second later wasn't. Sanji had rolled him onto his side faster than he would have thought possible, just in time for Zoro to start throwing up right there on the floor.

Sanji swore. There went another meal, what there was of it. He hadn't realized it'd be so damn difficult to get a little nutrition into their swordsman.

Zoro finally finished, his sides still heaving from exertion and exhaustion, and he wiped his mouth with another groan on some of the bandages on his arm. He looked dazed, only half-aware, but that really didn't prove there'd been serious head trauma. Still, he couldn't be left alone, especially not in this storm (the ship bucked under him again alarmingly) and so he hissed, "Brook, you'll have to stay with him, just in case. I need to go back out and help Nami-san with the ship."

"Of course, Sanji-san," the skeleton answered immediately, and for once didn't make a skull joke. Between them they managed to get Zoro back up on the bed and covered with the blankets again (it was still quite chilly). Brook kept his sea legs gamely and held a compress to Zoro's head injury while Sanji dug a bucket out of one of the cabinets—kept by Chopper for just this purpose—and left it secured nearby. Just in case.

Then he was outside again, and Nami-san was berating him and Brook for disappearing so suddenly at such a critical juncture. She was quite right, and he apologized profusely, explaining in a few brief (but shouted) words over the storm where there musician was as he ran to perform his next job. Nami-san's anger seemed to melt away slightly as she realized what had happened, and when she shouted at him after that it was only to make sure she was heard.

The storm went on for another hour, but in the end they pulled through and the air and waters calmed. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was exhausted. After tending briefly to their duties of cleaning up the ship and taking care of immediate, necessary repairs, most of them stumbled off to a well-deserved and desperate rest. Brook alone was left awake, to keep watch on both the ship and Zoro.

The following morning they took stock of their current predicament. Sanji had been concerned for his food stores, but needn't have been, as everything was perfectly fine. Usopp reported that there were only a few minor problems with the ship, which could wait until Franky's return to be repaired correctly.

The worst report by far came from Brook. His night watch for the ship had been fine, but Zoro had been a problem. He'd spent most of the storm muttering about being useless and losing the contents of his stomach, and he hadn't looked very good after his stomach had finally settled, either. When Sanji checked in on him, he was disappointed to see that the man looked shakier than ever, and seemed drawn. The cook would have been willing to bet that at least one or two of the hard-earned pounds he'd gotten on Zoro's bones had been drained away that night. Zoro didn't wake up either when Sanji tried to nudge him for breakfast, remaining in an exhausted stupor. And furthermore, entering the infirmary reminded him of something else, too...

"Nami-san," Sanji said, approaching her later that morning. She looked exhausted even after a good night's sleep, and he'd brought her a cup of tea out of habit, but that wasn't why he wanted to talk to her now.

"Something the matter, Sanji-kun?" she asked, accepting the mug he offered her with a quick 'thanks.'

"There might be...last night, most of the medicines we've been using on Zoro's infections were lost," he explained slowly. "The jars fell off and shattered in the storm."

Nami-san frowned at that. "All of them? You're sure?"

"I looked through Chopper's cabinets to see if he had any extras," Sanji confirmed grimly. "I didn't see any."

Nami-san didn't look happy. Sanji couldn't blame her. "We still have a little under a week until we reach Sabaody again," she said with another frown, eyeing her eternal pose. "He might be fine, his infections have been doing pretty well, but I'd rather not risk it."

Sanji nodded in agreement. "Furthermore," he said slowly, "while I still have the supplies for his meals, I'd rather pick up a few new supplies, just in case. He's not regaining weight as well as I'd like...every time he gains a few pounds he loses them somehow, like last night."

"We did pass an island on the way to Kuraiana," Nami-san said, and tapped her log pose thoughtfully. "It looked inhabited, and according to my charts it's not too far away. We could reach it this evening if we make a push for it."

"Nami-san, you're positively radiant when you show your wonderful navigational skills," Sanji crooned.

She grinned at him in amusement before taking a sip of tea. "Alright," she decided. "Go get Luffy and Usopp and we'll get started. It'd probably be a good idea to take a quick breather anyway. The way the sky looks, there'll probably be more storms tomorrow, and I don't know if Zoro can handle any more of that."

"Right," Sanji answered, and leapt over the rails on the hunt for his captain and crew.

* * *

True to Nami-san's prediction, they arrived at the island she had mentioned about an hour before sunset. The shops would be closing soon, so while Nami-san supervised Luffy and Brook docking the ship and preparing for nightfall, she handed Sanji a purse of money and told him to buy whatever supplies they needed. Sanji took Usopp with him and divided the beris between them so they could split up and save time. They were successful, and just as dark hit the two were back on deck, with Usopp carefully balancing a few jars of medicines from the local apothecary and Sanji with a small sack of supplies that would hopefully get a little more nutrition into Zoro's starved body.

The swordsman in question was awake when they got back, and, according to Nami-san, being even more impossible than usual. "He won't talk to me at _all,_" she scowled, "not even when I talk about things _not_ related to his health at all. I threatened to raise his interest and he didn't even look at me!"

"He wouldn't talk to Luffy-san, either," Brook whispered to Sanji, as the cook headed for the kitchen to put his new ingredients away. "He sat in there for a while with Zoro-san, to keep him company when he woke up, but Zoro-san was quite unresponsive."

Sanji frowned. Now _that_ was odd. Even when Zoro was irritable and snappish with the rest of them, he usually responded to Luffy at least with some degree of neutrality. To outright ignore their captain...that wasn't a good sign. Maybe Zoro was getting worse, or responding to something they hadn't figured out yet. The sooner they got him to Chopper, the better.

Still, he thought, as he started fixing dinner for the rest of the crew, they'd be here a few days more in port. He and Nami-san both agreed that, with the potential for more storms, it would be best to lay low at an island until the dangers had passed. Not to mention the rest would probably be good for their sickly crew mate, who needed as little excitement as possible right now. If there was something else wrong with Zoro, they'd need to find it out soon. Maybe he'd try to figure it out later, when he brought Zoro another meal.

Luffy found him fifteen minutes before dinner, wandering into the galley. At first Sanji thought he was simply trying to steal a little something before dinner itself, and turned to literally kick him out the door. He froze when he saw Luffy's face; it was that blank-looking, solemn expression that could easily be mistaken for stupidity, but he knew his captain better than that.

"Something's wrong with Zoro," Luffy said, very seriously.

For one heart stopping moment, Sanji thought his captain was referring to right then and there. He heard no sounds of panic or concern coming from the infirmary however, and realized Luffy was referring to the incident earlier today, and Zoro's new development.

"He's starving, Luffy," he answered flatly instead, and cracked the oven to check on the dinner inside. Still needed a touch more time. "Something's going to be 'wrong' with him for a while."

"That's not what I mean," Luffy answered, his tone still grave. "Zoro's really hungry, but I know you'll make that better. You're the best cook in the world." Sanji couldn't help but smirk at that. Their captain always had been a loyal one, and he knew Luffy wasn't just saying that—he really, genuinely believed it.

"There's something wrong with him _inside_," Luffy explained instead.

His words were childish, but Sanji thought he understood anyway. He shrugged tiredly. "Starving affects the mind just as much as the body, Luffy. I saw enough people on the Baratie to know it affects people differently, too." Not to mention himself, but he didn't _need_ to mention himself; Luffy knew that part well enough. "Some of them were anxious, some just didn't care about anything anymore, some got really snappish. Most of them were depressed. And we don't know what happened to him on that island, either...that could be affecting him, too." All of them had been afraid to delve further, to push too hard while Zoro was in such a fragile state, and so they hadn't yet been able to piece together exactly what had happened since Kuma sent him vanishing to that island.

Luffy's eyes narrowed dangerously, and that gaze promised pain to whoever was responsible for Zoro's situation, when they found him. Sanji knew how he felt. The more he interacted with Zoro, saw how messed up the past two months had made him, the more he wanted to put his foot through his captor's face. He doubted he'd be able to beat Luffy to the man, but he'd damn well try anyway.

Then that angry expression melted away, replaced once again by that rare, solemn, oddly wise look. "You'll make him better," he said confidently.

"I'll try, Luffy," Sanji said grimly, "But I can't promise anything. I'm a cook, not a doctor. That's what we have Chopper for. That's why we're trying to get back to Sabaody, remember?"

"You've seen this before. You know what's wrong. You know how to help Zoro. You'll make him better." Luffy stated his logic calmly, logic that only a child could really believe, but there was so much confidence in it Sanji couldn't help but feel reinvigorated by it.

"You'll look out for our nakama," Luffy finished. "We all will." And then he reached out and tried to snatch something from the counter before Sanji noticed. Sanji did anyway, and this time didn't hesitate to bodily eject the captain from his kitchen with one high-powered kick.

* * *

Gah, shorter chapter than usual. It is, again, setup for something BIG next chapter.

The psychological responses Sanji listed are, again, recorded psychological symptoms for starvation. Some other recorded responses are irritability, and becoming apathetic and withdrawn from family and friends. The angst, it is grounded in reality. Wahahaha.

You know the drill! Constructive reviews are lovely!

~VelkynKarma


	6. A Crack in the Foundation

**Mindshattered**

Part six of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Are you afraid your life means less?  
Are you concerned you might be next?  
It's much too soon for me to tell  
If you're in Heaven or in Hell  
(And I will catch you, but you might break the fall...)"  
~_Son of Sam_, Shinedown

* * *

Dinner was a rather quiet affair for the Straw Hats, which meant it was still fairly noisy for a normal dinner. Sanji vigorously guarded Nami-san's meal from Luffy, while Usopp and Brook were left to fend for themselves. Brook was getting much better at guarding his own plate, but he still lost a few rolls to their elastic captain. Luffy, for his part, seemed cheerful all over again now that he had determined the rest of his nakama would look out for Zoro. He seemed quite certain Sanji would be able to help their swordsman, no matter how many warnings Sanji gave that he might not be able to. It was surprisingly encouraging, but at the same time it put a great deal of pressure on him.

When they had finished, Sanji wolfed down a few leftovers for himself quickly before setting to work again. Normally he disliked scarfing one's food down as quickly as he did; you never had time to taste food when you ate that fast, and that was one of the many things food was there for to begin with. But he needed to get to work on Zoro's dinner, now that he had a few new ingredients. And after last night's incident, he didn't want to keep Zoro waiting too much longer.

He whipped up a new soup with the things he'd purchased that evening in town, nodding in satisfaction as everything came together. Unlike what he'd been feeding Zoro for the past week, this had a different balance of nutrients, something that Zoro might react better to. Plus it was a little more flavorful. Not like Zoro would actually notice, the way he swallowed it anyway, but he_ had _complained that one time. Even if it had only been banter designed to annoy the cook, Sanji still took it to heart.

When he was done he ladled some of it into a bowl, adding a little more than he previously had. It wasn't too much of an increase, but he thought Zoro could handle slightly more by now, and he certainly wanted it—and deserved it. Dinner prepared, Sanji gently kicked the galley door closed behind him and made his way to the infirmary.

Zoro was still awake when he entered, propped up by a number of pillows and staring moodily out the porthole. But at Sanji's entrance he whipped his head around and stared first at the cook, and then longer at the bowl, with a frenzied sort of expectance.

"You're late," he growled softly, eyes never leaving the bowl.

Sanji couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, as he quietly closed the infirmary door behind him. Confrontational, as soon as the cook came in...but at the same time, Zoro obviously wanted the food, and badly, judging by his unblinking stare at the broth in the cook's hand. Something was up.

"I don't see how," Sanji said, forcing calm into his voice as he sauntered forward, "seeing as you've never eaten by a regular schedule, anyway."

Zoro looked like he'd been smacked and resented it. His glare switched to Sanji, and the look the cook received was poisonous. But then Zoro shook his head and put a hand to his forehead—slowly, as moving still hurt him—and hissed suddenly, "It's late because I'm hungry. I'm _always_ hungry. Dammit, this is ridiculous..."

"It's normal," Sanji said flatly. "Don't beat yourself up over it." He shoved a glass of water in Zoro's direction, and the swordsman took it. He could handle a few quick sips on his own, now, if he was careful, and he was a little more agreeable when allowed some independence. He drank, swallowed, and Sanji hastily snatched the glass back just before Zoro lost his grip and dropped it.

"Fuck," the swordsman said, clearly frustrated. "This is stupid."

Sanji didn't bother to repeat himself. If Zoro didn't listen the first time, he wouldn't the second; he could just try another day. He picked up the bowl of broth, and, gesturing too it, said calmly, "This is a new recipe. Might be better for you in the long run. It'll taste better, too—"

"Cook," Zoro said, interrupting. Sanji blinked. Not only was Zoro talking to him on a day when he'd refused any interaction with the rest of his nakama, but he was doing it when he could be eating. _Must be something important on his mind,_ Sanji decided.

"Yeah?"

Zoro took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something big, or preparing for battle. Then he said very slowly, as if concentrating on each word, "I need you to do me a favor, cook."

Sanji raised an eyebrow again. "A favor?"

"Yeah. I—" He paused, glancing at the bowl of broth in Sanji's hand almost involuntarily. He was still distracted by food too easily. No wonder he was concentrating hard on everything he said.

"You can eat first," Sanji offered. "I'll stay after and you can still ask. I might even do the favor; depends what it is."

"No. Before." Zoro looked away this time, with an expression of disgust on his face, but after one affronted moment Sanji realized he wasn't reacting to the food, but rather to himself. He knew how he would react, when he ate, and knew he would find himself frustrated and ashamed of his own actions when he was done. It was obviously hard enough for him to ask for help, and from _Sanji_ no less. Clearly, he wanted to be as in control as he could be when he did.

_Must be a big favor,_ Sanji thought with a quickly disguised frown. It might be connected to his unusual behavior of late, though, and Luffy and the others needed him to find out what it was, if he could.

"Alright. Shoot," he said out loud, and subtly set the broth down behind a stack of Chopper's medical books he and Nami-san had looked through for tips, just to keep it out of sight. Hopefully it would remain out of mind as well.

Zoro was silent for a long time, and Sanji almost thought he'd fallen asleep. But then he slowly shook his head again, glanced over at Sanji, and looked him straight in the eye. "I need you to talk to Luffy," he said slowly, carefully, his voice exhausted but still containing grim resolve. "You need to convince him to leave me here."

Sanji couldn't help it; he rocked back a pace, surprised, and his visible eye widened. _"Leave you here?"_ he repeated loudly, though thankfully not loud enough to be heard outside the room. "Why the _hell_ would I convince Luffy to do that? Why the hell would you even _want_ that?"

"We're on an island, aren't we?" Zoro said. "And a quiet one by my guess. I haven't heard any fights on deck yet. Hunters would have attacked the _Sunny_ already if they were interested. It's as good a place as any for me to get off. I could get off at Sabaody, but that could still cause trouble if I—if one of us gets tracked down."

Sanji noticed the tiny slip of words, but was still too stunned to care, and he could feel his temper growing as well. "_That's_ your reason? You just want to run away after all the trouble we went through to find you?"

Zoro shot him another vicious glare. "I'm not running away," he said hotly, and it sounded like he meant it, at least in part. His anger was genuine, but there was something else in it that Sanji, in his own temper, couldn't quite pick up on. "You can't leave a ship without permission from the captain. That's why you need to talk to Luffy, and convince him to put me off-ship here."

"You must have lost your mind," Sanji said, but his scowl melted away to be replaced by a trace of concern. "Maybe you're delirious again? The storm could've done it..." He reached forward to press his hand to Zoro's forehead, searching for a rise in temperature. Zoro growled and tried to jerk his head away, but he was still too weak to really protest, and Sanji too determined. But his forehead wasn't hot at all, not even close to the furnace it had been when Zoro really _had_ been out of his mind a week ago, and that caused him to frown anew.

"I'm not crazy," Zoro snapped, trying to jerk his head away again. This time he succeeded, more because Sanji let him than because of his own strength. "This is_ serious_, love-cook! I've had a lot time to think on this while I've been in here. I haven't been able to do much else, and it helped distract me from—" He cut off abruptly, but his eyes flickered rapidly to Sanji's hands, as though searching for the bowl the cook had held only a few minutes ago.

Sanji knew better than to comment, and after a few seconds Zoro went on. "There's no point in me being on the ship anymore. You said it would be a...a year, before I'd be back to normal. Before I could use my swords like I used to, be as strong as I used to be." Sanji nodded hesitantly, and Zoro continued ruthlessly. "But I can't do that now. I can't do _any_ of that right now. That means I'm useless. Just like I was during that storm. But I've still got a bounty...the second highest bounty on the ship. People are still going to try and come after me. Even more of them, when they learn what sort of shape I'm in. It's not a hook that most bounty hunters would pass up...I know that from before."

"So what? We'll fight'em off like we always have. There've been hunters before," Sanji said.

"Idiot," Zoro hissed at him. "We're going on to the New World. People are going to be even stronger than before. You can't tell me you forgot the fight on Sabaody. It took all nine of us to take down _one_ Pacifista, and that was all of us in top condition. If one of us was absolutely worthless, we wouldn't have beaten him at all. That one person would even be a target."

Sanji frowned before he could stop himself. It was true, in a way. In the aftermath, Zoro had been so weak he couldn't do anything, couldn't even move. He'd become a target, and ultimately would have died had it not been for the intervention of Rayleigh and, strangely enough, Kuma. Not only that, but when Usopp and Brook had tried to protect him, it had nearly cost them _their_ lives as well.

Zoro could see the dawning comprehension on the cook's face, because he went on coldly. "This crew can't afford a weakness like that. I couldn't do anything on Sabaody, and that was only one time. It'll be impossible to keep protecting a complete liability like me for a full year. Especially when I'll be drawing New-World bounty hunters constantly. But I know you'll still all try it. Luffy can't wait around for a year in a safe port for me to heal up, and I'm not going to be responsible for any deaths on this crew, not if I can stop it. If it comes to that, I'd rather be left behind." He wasn't meeting Sanji's eyes by the end.

Sanji found himself growing angry all over again. "That's bullshit," he snarled. "You know nobody on this crew, least of all Luffy, would be okay with leaving you like this. Especially in the state you're in now. You're right that you're useless—how long do you think you'll last on your own, without the rest of the crew to look out for you, huh? Not to mention your diet." The cook scoffed. "The people here are nice, but they're really not equipped to handle your current situation, and I know _you_ sure as hell can't cook for shit even when you are in top condition."

Zoro glared at him furiously. "Damn it, curlybrow," he hissed angrily. He was working himself up now, and somewhere in the back of Sanji's mind he told himself that probably wasn't good, but he was too pissed off himself to care. "You don't get it, do you? Everyone on the crew has a job, and they do their job because it's what they got brought on for in the first place. Luffy's captain, Nami navigates, Usopp's the sniper, you cook, Chopper's the doctor, Robin's the archaeologist, Franky's the shipwright, and Brook's the musician. You know that just as well as I do."

"And you're our swordsman," Sanji snapped back at him. "What kind of pirate ship doesn't have a sword guy these days, anyway, huh? You think that's a reason to leave?"

"I think it is," Zoro hissed back, "because I'm pretty much _not_ a swordsman anymore, at least not for another year!"

Sanji rocked back at this, surprised. Zoro pressed on furiously, just like he would in a duel, even if it was costing him; Sanji could see his energy was clearly being drained from the encounter. "I can't do my damn job, cook. Luffy brought me on as a swordsman. Back then, that was the deal. I told him he wasn't allowed to get in the way of my dream, that I was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world. You know what he said? _'If you can't even accomplish something that small, then I would be very embarrassed as well!'_ Well, hell. I can't do it. Not for a year at least. And I can't get in the way of _his_ ambition either. That was the spirit of the deal. And no crew member should ever get in the way of his captain's ambition, anyway. We're supposed to _defend_ it. I'm not going to stop Luffy from being the Pirate King, and if I stay, it'll hold him back. So I need to get off this ship."

Sanji blinked in surprise. It wasn't every day that Zoro talked about his past. The crew knew virtually nothing about how Luffy had even found Zoro to begin with. Most of them from the East Blue had heard of the infamous bounty hunter, the Demon Roronoa Zoro, and knew that Luffy had somehow inevitably convinced him to jump from pirate hunting to being a pirate himself. Beyond that, his past was a mystery, one that everyone had never bothered to pry into. The fact that Zoro disclosed something now, even if only a brief sentence or two, was still far more than Sanji had ever heard before.

Still, he didn't like Zoro's argument. Less, because in a way it made sense. If they had to babysit a practically invalid swordsman while trying to cross the most dangerous waters of the world, it _would_ bring them nothing but trouble. Zoro was supposed to be one of the crew's three most dangerous fighters, some sort of insurance that they would make it through those deadly waters relatively unscathed. With Zoro down for at least a year, that would leave most of the ship's defenses to himself and Luffy, and even though the rest of his nakama were strong the odds were already unfavorable. Sabaody Archipelago had taught them that well. Not only that, but having to defend a weakened, but still heavily valuable target would ultimately be exhausting for their entire crew. Every time they set foot on an island they would have to be careful, set a large watch, and keep an eye out for bounty hunters in case they caught wind of the sickly swordsman in the bowels of their ship.

Logical or not, though, that reasoning didn't sit well in Sanji's gut. He disliked the swordsman, bickered with him constantly over any number of things, but ultimately he would never leave a nakama behind. He knew Luffy would be the same, and the others as well. And there were still a few counter-arguments to make...

"Being the swordsman isn't your only job on the ship," Sanji said, glaring down at Zoro. "You're also the first mate."

"That's not even official," Zoro shot back quickly. He coughed lightly, and his voice was starting to sound a little dry, but he refused the glass Sanji automatically handed him out of reflex. "It's just dumb luck that Luffy found me first, anyway. Besides, even if it _was_ real, the first mate's job is to protect the rest of the crew. That's exactly what I'm doing now, by getting rid of the danger before it causes too much trouble. The only difference is that this time the danger_ is_ me, instead of some other person I have to kill."

"Drink the damn water," Sanji snapped, pushing the glass at him again, as Zoro started to cough once more. The swordsman finally accepted the drink and took a few weak sips, but almost dropped it faster than he had the first time. Sanji snatched it back and noted that Zoro was already starting to tire himself out after all the heated arguing.

"I think you're full of shit," the cook added, after letting Zoro swallow the water. "This isn't the Zoro _I_ know. He never runs away from fights." The swordsman glowered at him, but Sanji rolled right on, not pulling back in the slightest. "More likely, this is the depression talking. It's common in starvation cases. You'll get over it. Forget this stupid staying behind idea."

"This is serious, cook," Zoro snarled back, but his voice was much weaker now, probably from the fatigue. "I'm not joking around. And I'm not depressed, damn it. I've already caused too much trouble for the crew—"

He froze, and his eyes seemed to go blank, focus on something inward that caused him to shudder almost involuntarily. Sanji couldn't help but frown in confusion and worry despite his still raging temper. Had Zoro triggered some sort of memory from that island? He thought this whole _leaving_ thing could be causing Zoro's bizarre actions, but maybe there was still something else messing with their swordsman's head?

But Zoro shook his head now, seemed to regain his calm and his focus, even if he was now obviously exhausted. "You need to convince Luffy to leave me here."

"Bullshit. If you want to get left behind so badly, then tell him yourself," Sanji said, voice still snappish, but he was only barely hiding his concern now. "Of course, you already know Luffy wouldn't leave you behind over something as stupid as this, or you wouldn't be trying to get _me_ to convince him for you. Tough luck, marimo. You're stuck with us, like it or not." He snatched up the bowl of broth, cooling behind the books still, and brought it out before Zoro could argue further or pass out from fatigue. "Now drink your damn soup before it gets cold."

Zoro's focus was already wavering from the exhaustion of the fight, and it shattered entirely when the food came out once again. He focused on it like a man possessed, and Sanji helped him drink it. Other than the usual admonishments from Sanji for drinking too fast, and muted curses from Zoro in response, they remained in a stony silence.

Zoro passed out fairly quickly once he was finished, and Sanji made sure he was well covered with the blankets to keep off the chill before heading back to the galley to wash the bowl. He had a lot of things to think about, and most of those thoughts weren't pleasant.

* * *

An hour later, Sanji walked out onto the main deck for a cigarette break, his thoughts still an unresolved mass. There were too many factors coming into play now, and things were getting more and more complicated the further they got from that island. At first it had just been _rescue marimo_. But that had rapidly progressed into _protecting a nakama from dying of starvation,_ and now they had some sort of psychological mess going on, and they _still_ didn't know what happened back on that island.

Sanji was beginning to think that was key, now. He was sure he'd have to dredge it out of marimo eventually—the work would be too subtle for Luffy, too harsh for Usopp or Brook, and he would never subject Nami-san to that sort of job. At the same time, he was almost afraid to even begin to tackle that problem. Zoro reacted in the strangest fashion every time they even approached the topic, and seemed to act almost _fearfully_ whenever he remembered it himself. The last thing Sanji wanted to do was crack the marimo's mind in two, especially at such a critical point.

Well, that was a puzzle for another night. He could think about how to deal with marimo's recent past later. He'd already figured out why the swordsman had been difficult today, and that was more than enough. So for now, he was just going to enjoy his damn cigarette and take a few moments of well-deserved rest.

Fate had a funny way of playing with his head, however. As he headed out to the deck he was surprised to see Luffy and Usopp sitting on the ship's railings, trying to fish by lamp-light.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he asked, wandering over despite himself.

"Darkfish!" Luffy said excitedly. "The people here say they're really tasty but they only come out at night!"

"It's true," Usopp agreed. "The apothecary told me about them when I was in town. They're attracted to lights so you hang them like this—" he indicated a few lanterns on poles, suspended over the water at odd angles, "—and then they come up to see it and see the bait and then you've got'em."

"Catch any yet?" Sanji asked, intrigued despite himself. He'd never heard of darkfish before, but if they were a common treat on the island he could probably find a few recipes easily enough.

"Well...not _yet_," Usopp said, and then more hastily, at Sanji's annoyed look, "I almost got one though, I could feel something nibbling at my bait, and the shadow was _huge_, it must have been the size of a small whale—"

"Fine, fine," Sanji said absently, and then turned to look at Luffy, who was staring down at the water with a look of supreme concentration, as though trying to stare a fish into coming to his bait.

Luffy seemed to realize he was being watched, because he turned to give Sanji a grin. That grin melted from his face when he saw the cook's expression, and the captain asked with a blink, "Something wrong, Sanji?"

"Uh...nothing," Sanji responded automatically. And then, a second later, "Well, no. Hey, Luffy...if I lost my hands in a fight or something, would you kick me off the ship?"

Luffy's baffled expression was practically an answer in and of itself, and Usopp looked equally puzzled. They were both staring at him so hard that neither one noticed their lines bobbing as a fish stole away Luffy's bait.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Usopp finally asked, frowning.

"Just idle curiosity," Sanji said, trying to sound casual. "Just, y'know. A cook's hands are his most valuable possession. If I lost'em for some reason, I wouldn't be able to cook. That means _no meat_," he added, just in case Luffy was too dense to get at what he was saying.

But Luffy was staring at him with a rather knowing expression, so oddly wise that Sanji couldn't help but wonder if he knew what the cook was really driving at. After a moment, though, Luffy's face broke into a grin and he said cheerfully, but with obvious sincerity, "Of course not. You're our nakama. You belong here even if you can't cook meat. You can just teach somebody else to cook meat!"

"I wouldn't be very useful in a fight, either," Sanji said almost warningly. "No hands means no handstands."

But Luffy only shook his head firmly. "You belong here," he repeated, very clearly. Well, that reaffirmed what he already knew. In retrospect he didn't really know why he'd even bothered to ask, but it was nice to have a little confirmation, he supposed.

"You're not channelling Zoro, are you?" Usopp asked, sounding bewildered. Sanji nearly jumped at that, and wondered if maybe the sniper was more perceptive than he seemed, but calmed a moment later. "I mean, you're not planning on chopping off your hands for some stupid reason, are you?"

"Not at all," Sanji said hastily, and couldn't help but shudder at the thought. "Like I said...just curious is all."

"Er...right," Usopp said. He looked like he might have pressed further, but right about then there was a furious yank on his fishing pole that nearly pulled him off balance into the water. Sanji grabbed the back of his overalls quickly to steady him, and in the excitement of catching their first darkfish (a very large, jet-black specimen) the entire conversation was forgotten by all but the cook.

* * *

Sanji was awake for most of the night, replaying that conversation with Zoro over and over in his mind. It was, in a way, the same straightforward logic Zoro always used, but it was twisted, a mockery of the swordsman himself. The more Sanji thought about it, the more he realized it meant one of two things: that it had to be some sort of depression forcing Zoro to think that way, whether or not he recognized it, or that the swordsman had to have some ulterior motive to his actions that was linked to whatever had happened back on that island. Or three, he supposed...a combination of both.

But in the end, no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't pick it apart on his own. So the next morning, as he prepared breakfast for the crew (Zoro had already eaten), he shared the conversation with Nami-san. She agreed with him in the end, that it was like Zoro but not at the same time, and that it probably had something to do with the island, somehow.

"We'll need to figure out eventually," she said grimly. "But we can't push it, not until he's a little stronger. If he wore out that easily just from arguing with you yesterday, I don't want to know what dragging something like that free prematurely will do to his health."

Sanji couldn't have agreed more. They agreed to wait, but both would keep a wary eye on Zoro's progress and actions, and trade any information they thought might be critical to solving the mystery.

Much to Sanji's surprise, not even half a day later Nami-san was already reporting more unusual actions on Zoro's part. Namely, that he had tried to convince _her_ to get Luffy to leave him behind, when she had sat in with him for a little while on watch.

"I guess he thinks you're a lost cause," she said tiredly, sipping the fruit drink he'd made for her quickly. Zoro had fallen asleep not too long before, allowing her to finally break away from the awkward conversation, and Sanji had been more than delighted to provide his darling Nami-san with a little stress relief and a willing ear.

"He tried to use _finances_ as his argument for me," she added. "Can you believe that? Zoro trying to argue _money._ He told me it'd be more expensive to keep him on, what with all the collateral damage the bounty hunters would cause." She rolled her eyes. "I told him no damage they could cause could outweigh the debt he currently owes me. No deal."

Sanji frowned. Zoro was obviously trying to appeal to Nami-san's (perfectly justified) love of money, but it seemed like a rather weak ploy, even for Zoro. And the fact that he was switching tactics meant that he desperately wanted to get off the _Sunny_, with Luffy's blessing, without actually having to ask for it. There had to be an ulterior motive, there; Sanji was sure of it now. He wished he knew enough of the pieces to put the puzzle together, but he had a feeling there were still a few clues too little to understand what was going on.

It got worse, too. While Zoro now pretty much ignored Sanji, except when being brought meals, and seemed to be ignoring Nami-san too (the lout), his tactics had switched to other targets. Usopp reported a confusing conversation with the swordsman that evening, in which Zoro had attempted to get the sniper through sheer intimidation to convince Luffy to put him off the _Sunny._ Had Zoro not been completely wasted away and had some semblance of strength still, it might have worked. But his gruff demeanor and furious gaze meant little when the swordsman could barely sit up under his own power. Usopp had also refused, and told Sanji instead of Luffy, giving him a significant look that said very clearly he now understood the 'hands conversation' from the night before.

And on the third morning at the island, only a few hours before they were scheduled to depart, Zoro had tried one final time with Brook. The skeleton, by that point, had been aware of the situation and cooly refused, instead offering to play a few songs to calm their sickly nakama. Zoro had refused in a furious huff, and was not calmed when Brook played soothing melodies anyway. He'd finally passed out from exhaustion and stress.

He did not confront Luffy about leaving the ship once. Not from the moment they docked at the island, to the moment they cast off and made their way once more towards Sabaody Archipelago.

This, to Sanji, was the most curious part of the behavior. Zoro had never before had a problem talking to Luffy; the two usually thought along the same lines and acted similarly, but Zoro was never afraid to tell their captain exactly what he thought when the situation called for it. It didn't make sense that he would avoid speaking to Luffy now, and about something that so obviously involved their captain, too. It reaffirmed Sanji's suspicions more than ever that there was something else going on that he didn't know about yet, something that had made Zoro either afraid or ashamed to confront his captain directly. Something that had happened on that island in the past two months.

They had told Luffy, in the end. Sanji agreed with Nami-san that it was probably safest to keep their captain updated, and maybe Luffy would have some sort of insight they couldn't understand regarding their swordsman. Luffy had known him the longest after all, and trusted Zoro absolutely. But Luffy was unable to shed any light on the subject. And when Nami-san suggested he approach Zoro himself, he'd merely shaken his head. "If Zoro wants to talk to me, he'll talk to me," the captain had said clearly, and that was the end of that, frustratingly forthright like always.

The cook and navigator had thrown up their hands in exasperation, but there was little they could say against that, and when the ship departed they simply agreed instead to keep an even closer eye on their swordsman than before. Who knew what other kinds of trouble he might cause, now that the island he had obviously tried to escape to was left behind. It was now becoming more imperative than ever for them to reach Sabaody, and hopefully Chopper, before anything else could go wrong.

* * *

Sanji must have the most epic eyebrow-raises _ever._

You guys know the drill! If you choose to leave a review, please make it a thoughtful one! I like thought-provoking responses, I really, really do!

~VelkynKarma


	7. Vicious Delicious

**Mindshattered**

Part seven of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own,_ One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"I used to tumble into bed at two or three o'clock in the morning, and hear those men. They begged and prayed...for help. They swore, they tore their bandages and the nights when I got up (it took all my strength of mind to stay in bed), I knew exactly what I would find...the men in their agony tearing off the dressings, the dark streams of blood on the floor."

~Mary E. Gladwin

* * *

He'd lost them.

He was still a bit puzzled as to how it had actually happened, truth be told. One did not become an excellent bounty hunter on the Grand Line without some skill in the arts of tracking, especially tracking on the open sea, and he had honed that skill finely. He should not have lost the trail, but it had, against highly probable odds, been lost.

It had taken him a few days to catch onto the trail of his wayward bounty. He'd had to prepare for his future encounter with the Straw Hats, and of course give the crew he'd hired their directions. He had employed this particular freelance captain and his crew for years, and paid them well for their services. They knew better than to question him by now, even if he gave them odd coordinates or strange orders, and always obeyed him quickly and efficiently. He was no sailor, but he knew they were exceptional, knew their business as well as he knew his. They got him wherever he ordered them to go with speed and precision, and he paid them handsomely for it.

Which was why after only a few days he had the Strawhat's ship, the _Thousand Sunny_ Roronoa had called it, in sight.

Of course, it was only by his sight. He was an accomplished tracker over both land and sea, but stealth was just as important a factor in tracking as the ability to follow one's prey. He did not want to alert the Straw Hats that he was on their trail, and had prepared appropriately. Years ago he had developed a falcon's-eye potion, which enhanced the human sight for three hours. He brought considerable stock of the potion on the ship with him, and not only used it himself, but provided it to whichever man was in the crow's nest at the time. It allowed their ship to follow from a considerable distance and keep an eye on their quarry, without allowing any person on the _Thousand Sunny_ to see them in return, not even the sniper. He was confident of that.

It also allowed him to observe the number of people on the ship, if he was careful. It was impossible to make out details, even with the falcon's-eye potion at its peak effect, but he could count the number of bodies moving around the deck. He was extremely cautious with his observations, but after days of study he was sure that the full crew was not present. Were he to hazard a guess, he would say there were no more than four or five beings wandering those decks.

Roronoa had to be with them, of course. He did not believe in mere coincidence, and there was no other reason for the _Thousand Sunny_ to be in these waters, so close to the time when his one hundred twenty million bounty had unexpectedly gone missing. That was reassuring, to know such a valuable catch was not too far from his grasp once again. And it was even more reassuring to know that ship wasn't filled. Even with Roronoa, who would not be an issue in battle, only half of the Straw-Hat crew was present. With half their members gone, it would be much simpler to capture the rest of them.

He had planned accordingly, given instructions to the captain he employed. He planned to attack at night, when they were sure to be at their least prepared, and strike quickly. If he was lucky, he could incapacitate one or two of their crew members before the others could be completely prepared for battle, weaken them even further.

But then the storm had arrived.

They had little choice in the matter; they had to pull back, and deal with their own ship in the storm. He understood the logic of it, nodded as the captain explained breathlessly, fearfully, at the course he had no choice to take. He didn't know much about sailing, but he did know enough to know the captain was making the right decision, and promptly removed himself to below decks to stay out of the way and let the men do the job he paid them for.

They survived the storm with only minor damage and no injuries. According to the captain, they had been extremely lucky. Unfortunately, when the next morning came and the sun shown brightly over the sea, the _Thousand Sunny_ was nowhere to be seen.

He had been puzzled by this, at first. He'd had the captain move forward to the last approximate location that he'd seen the _Thousand Sunny_ at, but there was no hint of wreckage, not the faintest trace of debris to indicate the ship had sunk. They weren't dead, then. Somehow, he had never expected that outcome to begin with.

He had still been puzzled as to where the ship could have disappeared to, however. He knew the _Thousand Sunny_ was equipped with state-of-the-art mechanical systems, designed at the famous Water Seven port. It was supposedly one of the best ships to come out of that island, an island already renowned for making the best of the best. He had been unable to decipher exactly what the ship had been capable of—his resource had not been terribly clear on it, did not have much information about the _Thousand Sunny's_ technical aspects. But he _did_ know the ship was equipped with high-powered systems that would allow it to move very fast, very suddenly. With the danger of the storm the ship's inhabitants could very well have activated those systems to save themselves, and the_ Thousand Sunny_ could be virtually anywhere by now.

He frowned and considered his options. There was a map spread before him, and he stared down again at the colored dots that marked his quarry's progress. If he could not tell where they were now, then he could try to decipher where they were going. Ambushes were one of the oldest tracking tricks to exist; it simply came from knowing one's prey enough to circle ahead, beat them to a goal, and lie in wait. He would have preferred to finish the encounter sooner rather than later, but upon consideration, an ambush might be the safer route with a group of pirates as unpredictable as the Straw Hats.

He traced the line of dots carefully, dragged his finger along the map ahead of them in an imaginary line. His finger trailed over blue-dyed parchment for several moments, and then scraped suddenly against a large cluster of small islands that formed one massive one. The location's name was printed in neat handwriting just above the cluster of drawn islands, and he was well familiar with it, had visited it on a number of occasions.

"Sabaody Archipelago," he murmured. "Of course."

It made sense, when he thought about it. The last place the Straw-Hats had all been seen together at was on Sabaody. It was not inconceivable for them to leave the pirate's nest to recover one of their members and return as fast as possible. Especially if it was being used as a meeting place for the Straw Hats he _hadn't_ seen on the _Thousand Sunny's_ deck.

He nodded to himself, satisfied. If he couldn't have them now, he would lay in wait, catch them when they limped back into the Sabaody harbors. He carefully rolled up the map, returned it to its proper place among the rest of the ship's charts, and went to inform the captain of their new course.

* * *

The next two days of sailing were uneventful in and of themselves. Nami-san reported that the winds were against them, making what _would_ have been a half-week trip stretch into a full week, by her estimation. It was unfortunate, but there wasn't much they could do about the weather except adjust their plans as best as they could, and Sanji knew Nami-san would get them back to Sabaody as fast as possible.

As for his part, Sanji was actually pleased to discover his new recipe was working far better than the original. Zoro was putting on weight much faster than he had been before, and no longer looked quite as skeletal as he had. Of course, it was still all fat, not muscle, and it would be a while before that changed. Zoro's body would keep storing fat away, "just in case," for some time yet until it was finally convinced there was no longer a shortage of food. After that it would start the long and arduous task of building muscle once more, and they'd be able to let Zoro back at the weights—slowly. At least he'd have Chopper then help to reinforce that; the marimo had a tendency to disobey medical orders.

Sanji frowned. Rather, he _used_ to have a tendency to disobey those orders. Who knew if he would now. While Zoro was recovering physically now, his mental state seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. More and more often he refused to speak with the crew, forcibly withdrawing himself from any interaction. When he did speak to them, which wasn't that often, he was usually impatient and irritable, and it took every scrap of his nakama's own patience to deal with him. Sanji was beginning to wonder if this new development was because they had refused to put him off-ship at the last island. It felt freakishly like he was trying to distance himself from the crew just so it would be easier to get rid of him later.

Not that Sanji himself saw much of that. Zoro talked to him quite often, if never pleasantly. Since Sanji still supplied all the swordsman's meals, some form of interaction was necessary, though for them it usually just included vast amounts of swearing and heated arguments over trifling things. Zoro continued to be obsessed with food whenever it was brought to him, and continued to be frustrated by that obsession when it reared its ugly head, which only put fuel on the fire for his temper.

Luffy was, strangely enough, the only other person on the crew that could get a regular conversation out of his swordsman. Sanji thought it was strange not because of Luffy's ability (it was quite common for their captain), but because Zoro had clearly been trying to_ avoid_ their captain before...so why would he still be relatively agreeable with Luffy now? He supposed Zoro still respected his captain deeply, which only made the current puzzle all the more confusing. Zoro clearly still desired to protect his captain and his crew, so why the hell would he be so desperate to put himself off-ship?

Whatever the reason, Luffy quickly became the only one qualified to deal with Zoro for long periods of time. While Nami-san, Usopp and even Brook would eventually get fed up with Zoro's cold shoulder approach or moody interactions and need to leave the infirmary for a break, Luffy proved to be oddly patient with his sickly nakama. Zoro rarely lost his temper with Luffy to begin with, but even when he did, or decided he didn't want to talk anymore, their captain wasn't affected by the obvious tension. He would just laugh and change the topic, or sit cross-legged on one of the chairs and quietly wait, allowing his swordsman some silence.

It was convenient, in a way. With Luffy taking over most of the Zoro-watching duties, Sanji and Nami-san were given a little well-deserved relief. Now that they only needed to interact with the swordsman when providing meals or checking his injuries, they could focus their attentions more on their jobs. Nami-san spent more time than ever at her maps, searching for safe routes and calculating their journey carefully. And Sanji was able to focus a little more on the rest of the crew's meals. None of them had complained and everyone seemed just as satisfied as always with breakfast, lunch and dinner, but the cook privately felt that with his attention diverted his meals had been sub-par the past few days.

Today he wasn't cooking, however. Rather, he'd made lunch, but unlike the usual schedule he hadn't immediately started thinking on dinner or whipping up a delicious drink and some snacks for Nami-san. Quite the opposite, actually; Nami-san had point-blank _insisted_ he go take a nap and get a few hours decent sleep. He had been getting up at awkward hours at best for the past few days and nights, both helping with the ship's watch and getting food into Zoro, and his rest had been erratic at best. But Zoro was enough out of the danger zone that he didn't need to eat at night anymore. Sanji had the first night-watch tonight, so Nami-san wanted to make sure he got his rest and was prepared for anything (she was so lovely when she looked out for her Sanji-kun!)

"I'll send one of the guys down to wake you before dinner time," she added, and that was enough for him. He'd trooped into the boys' cabin, flung himself down on his hammock, and was asleep so fast it was as though he'd been catapulted headlong into dreamland.

His sleep was incredibly restful. Sanji hadn't realized just how exhausted he was, running all over the place, sailing the _Sunny_ with half a crew, and dealing with their injured crew mate. And he almost didn't wake when he felt someone roughly shaking his shoulder and calling his name. Sleep was too comfortable.

But the shaking became faster, more urgent, and the tremble in his name was unmistakable. Then he remembered he was supposed to make dinner, and sat bolt upright so abruptly his waker yelped in surprise and backpedaled.

"Sorry, Usopp," Sanji said with a yawn. "Is it dinner already? Shit, that went fast—"

"No," Usopp answered urgently, cutting him off. "That's still an hour away. Nami sent me—it's Zoro, she said it's bad—"

Sanji blinked, focused on their sniper with sudden intensity. "What's bad about Zoro? Why is Nami-san worried?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't really get it," Usopp said, but he looked worried and was already backing away for the door, gesturing for Sanji to follow as quick as he could. "But Zoro looks _really_ bad, he can't breathe or something, and Nami said you might know about it—"

Clear as a bell, one of the earlier discussions he'd had with Nami-san regarding the swordsman's health came back to him. _He could have breathing problems..._

Sanji was up and running for the door so fast he nearly knocked poor Usopp over. The sniper didn't complain, only fell into step behind him. The cook reached the infirmary in bare seconds; the door was wide open, and he blew through it without a moment's hesitation, looked around quickly to take stock of the situation.

Nami-san and Luffy were both there by the side of the infirmary cot, and both looked equally anxious and worried. While he could understand that expression on Nami-san's face, it looked terribly out of place on Luffy, and sent a pang of panic through Sanji's heart. If Luffy looked like that, it couldn't be good. Grimacing, he looked down at the cot.

Zoro was on his side on the makeshift bed. Judging by Nami-san's hand still resting anxiously on one shoulder, Sanji had a feeling he'd been intentionally moved to help with his breathing...which he could both hear and see was absolutely terrible. The swordsman appeared short of breath, and those breaths came rapid and shallow, in rough pants. Judging by his expression, Zoro was doing his best to conceal his obvious discomfort; despite that, Sanji could see he clearly _was_ uncomfortable, maybe even in pain. His face was wrenched in a tight grimace, and one fist was curled into the sheets, as though grip alone would allow him to stabilize himself. The other was curled loosely, but twitched every time an especially raspy pant grated across Zoro's throat. There were no other signs of pain or injury, but Zoro had always been good at concealing that, and if what he thought was causing it had _really_ just occurred...

Turning to Luffy, Sanji narrowed his one visible eye dangerously and said very slowly, "Spill it. What happened?"

Luffy looked genuinely surprised at Sanji's hostile tone, and it was no small wonder. Sanji needed confirmation, but he _knew_ in the pit of his stomach what had happened, and it made him furious.

But Luffy was also one to tell the truth, and not shy away out of guilt or defensive anger, and so he answered with his usual straightforwardness even with his confusion and surprise still plastered openly on his face. "Zoro said he was hungry."

"He's been hungry for _days_, Luffy," Sanji said with barely contained, gritting patience. _"What happened now?"_

"He was hungry," Luffy said again, and went on before Sanji could kick him in frustration, "And I would've gotten you, because you're our cook, but Nami said not to bug you 'cause you were sleeping and deserved the rest, so I got him something myself—"

Sanji didn't even have time to think about the fact that Nami-san had been concerned about him, though on a better day it probably would have made him ecstatic. Instead he glared furiously at the captain, shouted, "You _idiot!_" and to everyone's surprise, darted from the room.

He was at his galley in less than five seconds. It was a mess, but not terribly so; the counters were relatively clean, at least, so Luffy hadn't tried to make anything. Still scowling, Sanji made a beeline for the icebox and whipped it open with far more force than he normally deemed appropriate for his kitchenware and appliances. As suspected, the fridge was practically barren of meat, meaning Luffy had probably gotten a snack for himself as well. For once, though, Sanji actually hoped Luffy _had_ eaten all of it. Zoro was doing better, but too much solid protein like that would set him back pretty badly. There were a few other food items, mostly unprepared but still relatively edible, missing as well. Thank whatever gods were out there that Sanji hadn't had a chance to restock on liquor, other than his cooking wines (safely locked away so the rest of the crew couldn't get at them). Everyone knew how much Zoro loved his liquor. Luffy inevitably would have brought him some, and alcohol wouldn't be good for his health either at this juncture.

Not that it really mattered. At this rate, things weren't looking good for their swordsman. Zoro might be able to tough it out, but...well, they'd just have to see. Looking grim, Sanji left his galley behind—he hated leaving it in such a state, but couldn't deal with it yet, not with this new turn of events—and headed back to the infirmary.

Zoro's breathing hadn't improved; if anything it had gotten worse. His eyes glared straight ahead of him in a gaze of supreme concentration, as though he was trying very hard to focus on each breath. He wasn't paying attention to the rest of them, though Sanji had a feeling he was still aware, not delirious like he had been in the past. Nami-san still had one hand on his shoulder, more to provide support than anything else, and had a slightly guilty looking expression on her face. Luffy still looked worried, and a little surprised, and appeared to be trying to ask Zoro what was wrong. Usopp was pacing back and forth anxiously, obviously wanting to be helpful but not knowing what to do.

"Sorry, Sanji-kun," Nami-san said, oddly helplessly. "I didn't think Luffy would...you just looked exhausted, that was all—"

"It's not your fault, Nami-san," Sanji answered, and though he tried to look and sound cheerful, his voice came out as terribly flat. "Please don't concern yourself over it." Then, turning to his captain, he added, "Luffy...you ate the meat, right?"

Luffy nodded. "I wanted a snack, too."

Sanji was tempted to put his foot through Luffy's rubbery face, but held back. "Zoro had some, too?"

Luffy nodded again. Sanji groaned.

"And some other food, too. Besides meat. That was also missing."

"I didn't eat that," Luffy said, and his face twisted into a childish expression of distaste. "I just wanted a meat snack. But you said sick people need a little of everything to get better, so I gave him a little of everything!"

Great fucking time for Luffy to start listening to him. _"How much,"_ Sanji asked aloud, his voice grating angrily and so low it almost couldn't be heard over Zoro's rapid panting.

Luffy could obviously tell how important the question was, because he paused to think very carefully about the answer before giving it. "Um...maybe how much Zoro eats at dinner? Well, maybe less than that. I don't usually get to eat his food, he guards it pretty well..."

Sanji cursed, this time out loud. Zoro never put down as much as Luffy did at mealtimes, but that didn't mean he wasn't a big eater; until recently he'd been a fairly big guy, after all. But even half amount he used to eat a few months ago was still too much for his body to currently handle, and on top of that it had been mostly solid foods. This was going to be a rough night.

"Luffy," the cook said, his voice still very, very cold, "Get the hell out."

Luffy looked stunned that Sanji was giving _him_ an order, but his eyes narrowed after a moment. "Get out? One of my nakama is hurt, I can't—"

"_You_ made him sick, Luffy," Sanji snarled. It was far harsher than he intended, probably far harsher than he _should_ have been, but his mind was already trying to figure out how to remedy the situation and he had no patience left for his stupid, stupid captain. "You might've just killed him. He's not ready for _that_ much food for a while, and not like that, either. You've just put his system into shock."

Luffy's eyes widened, and he looked suddenly stricken. Sanji couldn't entirely blame him; he had just effectively told Luffy that the captain had put the proverbial knife in his first mate's back without even realizing it. He should have felt sorry—he knew how much Luffy cared about his crew, _knew_ he hadn't done it on purpose, that Luffy would rather die himself before he caused any of them harm like that—but at the present moment he couldn't bring himself to care. Not watching Zoro struggling to breathe like that, and not with his own dark memories clamoring desperately for his attention, screaming of infirmary beds and doctors running around frantically trying to deal with the mess that stupid, hungry boy had caused himself for stealing—

"But...but he ate it!" Luffy said, as if that made it all okay, and he sounded so confused and genuinely stunned that it snapped Sanji from his panicked reverie. It was a childish response, and Luffy obviously didn't understand the depths of what he had done, or why it was so bad.

"Of course he ate it," Sanji snarled. "He's fucking _starving_, and you dangled food in front of his nose, why the hell _wouldn't_ he eat it? He'd be desperate for _anything_ now. Meat, vegetables...fuck, if you put a plateful of human flesh in front of him he'd probably eat that too, no questions asked." He knew _that_ from personal experience; the soft click of a peg-leg on wooden deck floors reminded him of that for the rest of his life. "That doesn't mean he can handle any of that yet," Sanji finished in a furious rush. "Now get the hell out before you make anything worse!"

For a long moment, so long that Sanji was actually afraid it had stretched out to a minute, an hour, a year, Luffy just stared at him, met Sanji's one visible eye with his own wide, smouldering ones. Something deeply ingrained in the cook's senses—survival instinct, maybe—screamed at him to look away, back down, and for one terrifying moment within that moment Sanji thought Luffy might actually start arguing with him, or worse, attack him. But Sanji knew what he was talking about here, and refused to back down, glared levelly at Luffy. And after that moment finally passed, Luffy suddenly nodded.

"You'll take care of him," he said, a statement of absolute surety, not a question and not a guess.

"I'll do whatever I can," Sanji agreed stiffly, and felt like kicking himself afterward. He was being an asshole for no reason. Well, hell, he could apologize afterwards. He had more pressing things to deal with now

Luffy nodded again, and his serious expression melted slightly into an apologetic one. "I'm sorry," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. "I didn't think—"

"Later, Luffy," Sanji snapped, patience officially at an end. "Get out _now._" Luffy blinked in surprise, but went, scurrying out the infirmary door and across the deck, were an anxious but unknowing Brook was probably manning the helm and awaiting news.

"Usopp," Sanji continued, "You should probably go too, there's nothing you can do here. Nami-san, you too—this isn't going to be pleasant, you don't need to stay."

They both nodded, looking a confusing mixture of disappointed and relieved. They were clearly both worried, but being unable to help, the situation was only disturbing them, and they obviously wanted to get out of those confining quarters as quickly as possible.

Usopp was closer to the door, and turned for it with one last anxious glance back. But then he froze and pointed suddenly at the cot, eyes widening in horror. "Z-zoro! What's going on?"

Sanji spun around and swore when he realized what Usopp was now panicking over. Zoro's eyes had rolled back until they could only see the whites, and his harsh panting had been replaced with a heavy silence. Sanji wondered, very briefly in the back of his mind, why he hadn't noticed it going so painfully quiet so suddenly. Now that he was aware of it, it seemed frighteningly obvious.

Nami-san was the first one to act. She too wore a shocked, worried expression on her face, but she had rolled Zoro onto his back again in a heartbeat and pressed her ear to his chest. She withdrew a moment later, looking anxious. "His heart's stopped," she rasped, "and he's not breathing either. Sanji-kun, help me—"

He was at her side in a moment, bending over the prone form of their swordsman with her. She gestured hurriedly to Zoro's chest, and Sanji understood instantly. All of the non-Devil Fruit crew members were well familiar with the basics of CPR, having to fish their living anchor nakama out of the water on a regular basis. All of them were also capable of doing it alone, but it was much easier with somebody to help. And judging by her expression, Nami-san didn't seem confident she could keep up both tasks anyway on Zoro's brittle and obviously still-weakened body. Breaking ribs was a real possibility with chest compressions, but less so if only one person focused on it. So Sanji went to work quickly, and smothered the temptation to pound a little harder than necessary when he glanced over once and saw Nami-san's lips pressed to the damn marimo's own. _He's not even conscious, she's just saving his life, it's not like it's an _actual_ kiss,_ he reminded himself repeatedly (but all the same, he refused to look over again).

It took far longer than Sanji had hoped, or at least it certainly felt that way. But at last Zoro took a weak, shuddering breath, and Nami-san shakily reported a slightly erratic but otherwise solid heartbeat when she pressed her fingers underneath Zoro's jaw for a pulse. He remained unconscious, not that Sanji was surprised. Nor could he say he was entirely shocked to find Zoro's breathing returning to the same difficult, rapid pace it had first taken as soon as breath was back in his body.

Nami-san was shaking, and Usopp too—the sniper was by the door, and had a panicked expression on his face, still gazing at Zoro's limp body with wide-eyed terror. Sanji found more than a few tremors running up his own spine and down his arms, and fiercely wanted a smoke, though he knew he couldn't afford to light up here with Zoro's health in such obvious disarray. It made him all the more irritable.

Nami-san chose that moment to speak up. "That's two," she whispered softly, and her voice was trembling as well.

"What was that, Nami-san?"

"When you were telling me about...that syndrome," Nami-san explained. "You mentioned a number of things. Breathing problems and heart failure were two of them. Are the other things going to happen to him, too?" She gave Sanji a worried look. "Convulsions? Falling into a coma? Is this..."

Sanji desperately wanted to erase that terrible look from her face. And Usopp's too, for that matter; the sniper was now watching him anxiously as well. Shaking his head briefly to chase away the dark memories clawing at his mind once more, trying to reorganize his thoughts, he answered and did his best to keep his voice determined and in control.

"It depends on what Luffy gave him," he said honestly. "From what I know, different reactions happen depending on what nutrients a starving person gets an overload of." Usopp blanched, and Nami-san's worried expression grew deeper, so Sanji continued with the rest of his speech hastily. "But don't worry. Zoro's tough, and I've seen this sort of thing before. I'll get him through it."

"You promise?" This was Usopp speaking now, and he looked quite desperate for an affirmative answer after what he had just witnessed.

Sanji considered briefly. He didn't like making promises he knew he might not be able to keep. And Zoro's condition was honestly up on the air, at this point. Though he was putting on a brave face for Nami-san and Usopp, the truth of the matter was that without a doctor here, or the right knowledge of medications and a good facility for treating starvation patients, there wasn't a hell of a lot that could be done. Sanji had knowledge of this refeeding syndrome, both from what he was told and...for other reasons...but that didn't mean he could treat it.

Still, Zoro was strong and determined. And Sanji could provide him with plenty of support. In a battle, you needed to know your enemy before you could bring them down, and it helped when you had your nakama to guard your back. This would be much the same. Zoro was fighting blind right now, unsure of what was happening to him or what he could do to help himself survive. Sanji couldn't fight Zoro's opponent here personally, but he could arm their swordsman with knowledge of the refeeding syndrome, give Zoro the details of his opponent, and be there to cover his back if things got especially nasty. It was the best they could hope for, but Sanji still had a gut feeling that Zoro could manage...if he was still the same Zoro they knew before Sabaody, at least.

It all flashed through his head in a second, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said, "I promise. But you guys should leave for now."

Nami-san frowned. "What if his heart stops again?"

"I can handle it," Sanji said smoothly. "Or I can call for help if you want me to, Nami-san. But you don't want to see this...and he wouldn't want you to see it, either. Tonight is going to be very rough...trust me." His expression was grim now, and he knew he was putting too much of himself into his words, his face, his voice, but he couldn't help himself. Not now, not with the memories ripping and tearing at his unprotected, suddenly exhausted mind.

Nami-san and Usopp both regarded him curiously, but then Nami-san abruptly nodded. "Okay," she said. "Fine. You know best, Sanji-kun. But promise...if anything major happens, you _will_ call us. One way or the other." She gave him a firm look, and Sanji understood all too well what it meant. _Call us so that we can try to help our nakama too, if we can. Or be with him at the end if we can't._

"I promise I will," he said smoothly. "And I'll update you when he's out of the danger zone." Because he wasn't going to let Zoro die, not if he could do a damn thing about it, and not when he'd already worked this hard to keep the man from starving to death. Hell no.

Nami-san nodded again and moved for the door quickly, gesturing for Usopp to leave ahead of her. The sniper gave their swordsman one last, anxious look, which shifted to Sanji briefly before he ducked out the doorway. Nami-san only glanced back briefly before exiting as well, closing the door behind her.

Leaving Sanji alone with an unconscious and possibly dying starved swordsman.

* * *

Fun fact: I had to train myself to stop adding '-san' to the end of the name 'Nami' after finishing writing this story. Darn you, Sanji's voice!

The title of this chapter comes from a song by the same name. The song is by a group known as Infected Mushroom. It's good stuff, y'know? :D

A quick note on reviews: you guys have been lovely, giving me both compliments and constructive criticism. However this problem has been popping up a lot, so I figure I'll just write it here: if you give me concrit, please tell me where the thing you are concritting is. I enjoy getting feedback, but I'm not a mindreader, and sometimes it's hard to tell exactly what grammatical error/story theme/characterization/whatever you are critiquing when you are really vague about it. XP Many thanks!

~VelkynKarma


	8. Symmetry in Ravening

**Mindshattered**

Part eight of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Note**: 598. _598._ Sanji's other eye._ Sanji's. Other. Freakin'. Eye._ Omg. OMG. _OMG_. (No wonder he covered it though, lol). _WHERE IS MY ZORO. WHY DOES HE ONLY _HAVE_ ONE EYE IN THE COVER PAGE. WHAAAAAAT._

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"It takes a man all his inborn strength to fight hunger properly. It's really easier to face bereavement, dishonour, and the perdition of one's soul—than this kind of prolonged hunger. Sad, but true."

~Marlow, _Heart of Darkness_

* * *

Well, first things first. The cook glanced over at their prone, but once again panting first mate. He'd need to be woken; Sanji didn't much like the idea of letting him sleep this off. It felt like he _could_ slip into a coma a little too easily if he was unconscious, and while he wasn't sure if keeping him awake would make any difference, it didn't hurt to try. But before he could do that, he circled the room once, quickly collecting a few items together. The bucket he'd given to Brook a few nights previously was first, just in case (Sanji doubted he'd be throwing up at this point, but better safe than sorry), followed by a few other blankets, as Zoro was trembling again from his exertion and probably from cold as well.

When he'd collected everything together, he dragged an extra chair over to Zoro's bedside, beside the first that Luffy had been using earlier. He set the bucket on top of it, then carefully spread the extra blankets over Zoro's shivering, panting form. That taken care of, he took a deep breath to steel himself for the inevitable long evening and then reached out to shake Zoro's shoulder. "Hey. Marimo. Wake up."

Zoro did not wake up.

A brief moment of panic flashed through Sanji's mind—maybe he hadn't been quick enough, and Zoro really _had_ gone too deep for them to save. But he kept shaking persistently all the same. It was a possibility, to be sure, but his gut instincts told him even Zoro's love for sleeping eighteen hours a day wouldn't let him go down as easily as that.

He was right, sort of at least. After a few more moments of unrelenting nudges, Zoro began shaking his head even as his panting continued; his breathing was too weak to even groan. Doing his best to hide the relief from his face, Sanji carefully but firmly smacked the side of Zoro's face and hissed, "Today, marimo! I know you love sleep, but this _kinda_ isn't the time!"

He'd said it with the intent of baiting Zoro into a response; some sort of angry, annoyed swear, or a growling retort fit for a rival, just like the banter they'd shared pretty much since day one. What he _hadn't_ expected was that Zoro would turn his head away, grit his teeth firmly (it made his breath that much more raspy and difficult), and then hiss slowly in response, "I don't... wanna talk...anymore."

Sanji blinked in bewilderment, but snapped back before he even thought about it, "That's fine, marimo, 'cause we weren't talking about anything to begin with. Now get up!"

But Zoro didn't open his eyes or come back with a harsh retort. Sanji realized after a moment's more observation that their swordsman was still not entirely aware, instead floating somewhere between the barriers of unconsciousness and wakefulness.

"Don't care," Zoro was rasping now though his shallow breathing. "Don't care what...you force me...to drink...this time. Won't talk. Betrayed them...too much...already..." Zoro's expression was a deep, grimacing frown, and Sanji knew somehow it had to do with whatever the man thought was going on, and not with his breathing, difficult though it might be. And his voice...even through those rough pants Sanji could hear the desperation. He would almost be willing to bet that Zoro was trying to talk tough, even though he knew a losing battle when he saw it.

That didn't sit well with him. Not at all.

But it wasn't the time to think about that, not now, not with Zoro's life potentially at stake. He filed away those scraps of information for later—he was _sure_ they had something to do with Zoro's odd behavior, now—and instead went to more vigorously shaking Zoro, trying to bring him into full awareness. "Zoro! Up, wake up, _now_ you idiot!"

"No...not gonna...talk," Zoro rasped, but then his eyes snapped open, wavered blearily around until they spotted Sanji's face in front of his own. Then he rasped, "C-curlybrow? What the... hell...you...here too?" and there was a definite flash of concern and...was that _loathing_ in his eyes?

"Of course I'm here. On the _Thousand Sunny,_" he added, since Zoro seemed to be having trouble grasping what was going on.

"Oh...right," Zoro panted, and that flicker of loathing—or maybe _self_-loathing, Sanji realized with confusion, and more than a little carefully disguised concern—faded away. The swordsman rasped again, and then after a moment seemed to remember what had happened, and hissed softly, "S-still can't...get enough air..._fuck_..."

"That's pretty normal," Sanji said, his voice taking a grimmer tone once he was sure Zoro was all there again. "If that's the worst that happens from here on out I'll be thankful. Unfortunately it'll probably last a while. Just focus on breathing...might help if you were on your side again too." Zoro frowned at him, then slowly scrabbled for purchase as he tried to force his weak, nutrition-and-oxygen-deprived muscles to cooperate. Sanji watched expressionlessly, but when Zoro's panting grew even rougher he finally leaned forward and quietly rolled the swordsman onto his side himself.

"Didn't need...your help..." Zoro hissed weakly in frustration. "Damn curlybrow..."

"Sure you didn't, stupid marimo," Sanji snapped back, but he really wasn't in the mood for banter. And judging from Zoro's pained, uncomfortable expression, _he_ wasn't terribly in the mood either.

They lapsed into what passed for silence for several minutes, with only Zoro's ragged, difficult breathing filling the air. Sanji sat down in the chair that Luffy had occupied earlier and watched the swordsman quietly, keeping a sharp eye out for some sort of failure on the part of Zoro's body, but none occurred. Zoro glared at him for a few moments, but afterwards simply looked straight ahead as he once more tried to focus his own once-powerful self discipline and deep bodily control on taking one breath at a time, struggling to gain himself the air he needed.

And then, rather abruptly, he spoke. "Fuck...I d-didn't expect..._food_ ...to b-be my enemy..."

Despite the situation, Sanji couldn't help but give him a cold look, and the lecture had rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself. "Food's not good or bad, marimo. It's how people treat it and use it that actually matters."

"You would know...love-_cook_," Zoro rasped, pointedly drawing out the last word.

"Of course," Sanji snapped back cooly. "It _is_ my area of expertise, marimo...not that you could understand the subtleties of the culinary arts."

Zoro gave him another glare, coughed a few times, and spasmed slightly as he tried to draw breath. Panic flickered briefly through Sanji's mind, and he had just started to stand up, thinking to help the swordsman somehow—how, he didn't know yet—when Zoro's breathing righted itself. Sanji sighed in quickly covered relief and settled back into his chair.

"I don't care...about your _arts_...right now," Zoro hissed softly, once his breathing was (relatively) under control again. "Good or bad...I didn't expect...t-that eating a meal...would do _this_..." He coughed again, spasmed again as his body was wracked with the sudden and violent lack of breath, curled up on himself to try and alleviate some of that stress.

Sanji waited for it to pass, and it did, once Zoro got enough control of himself to try and force his breathing back to normal. Then he said, "You'd be surprised at some of the things food can do to the human body. Not that it _should_ be used incorrectly, but it can make or break a man if a person knows what they're doing."

"No kidding..." Zoro's panting had worsened slightly, but when he twisted his head to meet Sanji's eyes with his own there was still clarity there, exhausted but still aware. "You warned me, even...that too much...could be bad..."

Sanji blinked in surprise; he hadn't expected that.

Zoro had looked away now, curled slightly again to defend against another wracking cough, or maybe stomach pains, but managed to continue once his breathing had righted itself (relatively). "Knew I shouldn't have...you warned me...knew it was bad...but...it was right _there_...knew I shouldn't have...but I...wanted it...so bad..." He ground to a halt, out of breath, or maybe just frustrated with himself that he'd exposed that weakness at all.

But Sanji could understand. Hell, he more than understood; he'd _been_ there. So he said quietly, "Forget it. I warned you because I thought I should, but I wouldn't have expected you to listen anyway. Not in your current state. I didn't."

Zoro's eyes widened at that, as good as a confession, but he didn't press further. Instead, after a moment's pause to think over that, he said quietly, "When you...warned me...you said...it'd be fatal..."

Sanji hesitated. Here was the tricky part, the part that he himself couldn't predict even with all his experience on the subject. "It _can_ be fatal," he admitted quietly. "In some cases. But not impossible. I know as much as anybody could know about what you're going through now. I can arm you with the information you'll need to beat it. If you've got a shot, you'll get it. That's the best we can do without Chopper or another doctor around."

Zoro looked as terrible as ever, but somehow managed to force a weak, empty smirk onto his face as he met the cook's eye. "Expert, huh?" he said, and sounded a little disgusted, though with himself or with the cook Sanji wasn't quite sure. "Saw this... on the Baratie...all the time, I bet...probably got...boatloads of...w-weak-willed...hungry bastards all the t-time—"

"It isn't weak to want food when you're _starving_," Sanji said sharply. Zoro looked a little surprised at the reprimand, and Sanji supposed he couldn't blame him. He was shouting at the swordsman, but it was to defend him, not berate him. Well, he had Zoro's full attention now...

"We did get a lot of malnourished people on the Baratie," Sanji conceded after a moment. "That's why the crap-geezer built it in the first place. But that's not how I know."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He knew that it was time, and he'd concealed this particular bit of information long enough, though a part of his mind still _screamed_ that it was insane to reveal such a weakness to his annoying rival. But Zoro was oddly calm in his exhaustion, even as he was wracked with more coughing fits and heavy panting, and when his condition allowed he watched as quietly as he could and simply waited. Sanji was reassured once again that Zoro wouldn't abuse the knowledge, and he _did_ deserve to know, with what he was going through now...

"I know," Sanji said slowly, "Because it's happened to me, too. When I was eight years old the ship I was on went down in a storm. Me and the crap-geezer were both shipwrecked on a godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere. Twenty-five days with limited rations. About two months on nothing but water." He didn't mention crap-geezer's sacrifice. It still gave him chills, even years later, and it wasn't important to Zoro anyway. He couldn't keep himself from suppressing a shudder at the memories that tore at his mind from those days as it was. Could see his skeletal fingers all over again, and that dried out, empty husk of a face that stared back at him in the reflection of the dirty water; could still feel that gnawing pang in his stomach as he ate away at himself, feel the soreness in his limbs as he struggled to even move...

He paused briefly in his narrative, glanced over at the swordsman. Zoro seemed surprised again, and yet Sanji almost thought he seemed more surprised at the confession itself than what it contained. So marimo'd done a little guessing then, putting all the clues Sanji had inadvertently dropped together. Maybe his skull wasn't as thick as the cook first thought.

He filed that away for later, continued dragging dark shadows free from where he'd locked them in the back of his mind years ago. "When a ship finally found us," he said softly, "well, we didn't really recognize it at first. It was a wonder they found us at all. By that point we were too weak to make a signal fire or call for help. It was pure luck they spotted some of the wreckage still around from the ships. When I finally woke up in that merchant ship's infirmary I figured it was all over. Still felt hungry, but they had no lack of food, I was sure I'd feel better if I ate my fill...

"But they wouldn't let me. The doctors tried to explain I couldn't take it, but I was just a kid, and all I knew was that I was _hungry_ and I wanted that feeling to stop. How could they understand? They hadn't been there. They were just doctors sprouting nonsense, trying to get a hook in me so I owed them or something." Sanji shrugged. "At that point I could tell myself anything and believe it, as long as it justified me getting my fill.

"It got to the point when food was the only thing I thought about," the cook continued. "Night, day, dreaming or awake, in conversation, in my thoughts..._everything_ was about food. You think you have it bad? I was still an apprentice at the time, but I still knew how to cook things. Imagine telling yourself recipes for something to absolutely fit your cravings over and over, imagining making it and never being able to eat it..." Sanji shook his head grimly. "It's like torture. I couldn't take it anymore."

Zoro started coughing again, and Sanji paused in his narrative once more to allow the swordsman to recover his breath. His breathing was getting worse, and Sanji was afraid his heart might stop again, or maybe with the way he was spasming he'd go into seizures. But talking seemed to give Zoro something to focus on, so when the heavy panting slowed ever so slightly back to its relatively normal uneven pace Sanji continued.

"It took a while to work up the strength to move. You know how hard it is...but I was determined. Waited until night, then managed to sneak to the kitchen. It took everything I had to get there. And when I found it..." Sanji grimaced, disgusted with himself. "I gorged myself on their stores. Anything immediately edible that didn't need too much preparation...I ate it. All of it."

Zoro snorted, a noise that turned into a rasping gasp but nevertheless portrayed his disbelief. At Sanji's scowl, he merely muttered, "Can't see..._you_...stealing food...love-cook," by way of explanation.

Sanji still looked annoyed, both at his past self and at Zoro's comment, but only shrugged in response. "I was just a kid. Not even a cook yet, I'd only been apprenticed on the _Orbit_ for a few weeks. And I was desperate...well, you know how it is now. You don't have to imagine. It's impossible to understand without experiencing it, anyway." Sanji grimaced, and was not terribly pleased to see the dark flicker of grim agreement in Zoro's eyes.

"This...happened to...you, then..." Zoro noted after a few silent moments, breaking Sanji out of the whirl of memories again.

"Yeah," Sanji answered quietly. "Pretty badly. Went into shock. It's sort of hazy, even now...I remember a lot of pain, so bad I had curled up on myself right there on the galley floor. Part of me wanted to die at that point. And I remember a lot of panic, and a lot of yelling, and the merchants' two doctors arguing over what to do and shouting at me. Not great bedside mannerisms," he said with an attempt at humor, but it fell strangely flat, and Zoro wasn't laughing, wasn't even chuckling. He set his head back against the chair rest, closed his eyes for a moment to try and remember, to understand. "It's funny, though...I'd been through a lot up until that point. Nearly died in a pirate attack _and_ a storm at the same time. Tried to fight a full-grown, known killer over a few nonexistent food scraps. Survived two and a half months on almost nothing...and yet, those doctors arguing over me on whether or not I'd live or die, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help myself..._that_ was probably the most terrifying thing I remember."

Zoro said nothing, but Sanji knew, even with his eyes closed, that the man was still struggling hard to listen though his own medical panic.

"Then again," Sanji conceded after a moment, "I was only a kid. And truth be told, this refeeding syndrome hit me a lot harder than it's probably hitting you now. I wasn't even fully grown, not to mention the malnourishment...yeah. It was pretty dangerous for an underdeveloped kid.

"You, though," Sanji continued, and he sat up suddenly, snapping his eyes open and meeting Zoro's firmly, "You're much better off. You're an adult, and with all that training you've been doing for God only knows how long means you were definitely physically fit before all this started. You _already_ have a better chance than I did, even without the doctors." He paused. "And you've got me for backup," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Zoro gave him a baleful look. "Don't see what...you're supposed...to do...to help," the swordsman panted.

"I've already done it, you idiot," Sanji hissed, more than a little frustrated with Zoro's stupidity. "What you're going through right now is painful, uncomfortable, and confusing as hell, but it's survivable. Hell, if I could do it when I was _eight_, you _sure _as hell can survive it now if you just focus. Unless you want to admit you lost to an eight year old?"

"I ain't...losing to you..._period_," Zoro growled back. His breathing was still harsh, but Sanji noted with a flicker of triumph that his voice carried a very familiar tone: that low, determined snarl that always entered Zoro's voice when he got serious about his latest battle. If he'd had his bandana, and the strength to manipulate it, Sanji would almost swear Zoro'd be tying it around his head right about now.

"Then hang on," Sanji shot back, and while he kept his voice carefully casual, the familiar banter they were both so used to, the message in them was clear. "Focus on your breathing. It's gonna last a while...just hang on, and let me know if it gets worse. Or if anything else starts causing pain...'cause if you hide it, I _will_ find out, and I'll sic Chopper on you as soon as we find him. Don't go to sleep. I'll kick you awake if I have to, marimo, and you know I will," he finished with a theatrical scowl.

"Tch...you talk...too much...curlybrow," Zoro hissed back by way of response.

Sanji smirked, was surprised to find that even with Zoro's unstable state the expression came far easier than anticipated to his face. "What, marimo, think you can remember all that the first time?"

"Try me," the other shot back. He grimaced as another breathing spasm passed through him, but regained his determined look almost immediately. Sanji could practically feel the shift now; it was like he'd given Zoro one of his swords in the middle of a battle where he'd previously been without any weaponry at all. The swordsman was gearing up for a fight now, had shifted to a determined, steadfast offensive, and would not suffer a loss.

"You'd better pull through," Sanji said, still with a bantering attitude, but his tone was deadly serious. "Nami-san would never forgive me if I let you die."

"You can't.._.let_ me do...anything...And I don't...owe her anything...either," Zoro rasped, but at Sanji's glare he merely shook his head tiredly but determinedly and said, "Not goin' anywhere...love-cook. Now...get lost..."

"As if," Sanji snapped back in response, and settled back into his seat with purposefully exaggerated motions.

"Fine," Zoro hissed, still sounding exhausted. His eyes flickered away from the cook to stare straight ahead, filled with intensity as he concentrated on his breathing once more.

From then on the infirmary fell mostly silent, other than Zoro's harsh, uneven panting. Zoro mostly ignored his presence, focusing on his internal struggle. Sanji kept an eye on him while pretending not to watch or even care, trying to allow his rival as much privacy as possible when they obviously couldn't afford to give him anyway. Zoro would have to fight most of this fight himself, but just because Sanji had given him a little more information and encouragement to use didn't mean the swordsman couldn't still relapse at any given moment.

And there were more than a few close calls. Zoro had to focus hard on breathing just to get enough air, and several times his panting sped up markedly. Sanji had been afraid at those moments that their swordsman was going to suffer another bout of heart failure, but thankfully Zoro managed to forcibly gain control of his body again thanks to years of combat discipline. Sanji was _extremely_ grateful for this, as he wasn't sure if he'd have enough time to call Nami-san in to help, and while he didn't like the thought of her kissing the marimo he was even more adverse to doing it himself (the very thought alone made him shudder).

Sanji had caught a few other signs, too, that had indicated potential trouble. They were mostly subtle hints: a slight grimace of pain here, a flash of raw determination in Zoro's eyes, a twitch of fingers curling into fists for the barest of seconds as he reacted to a spasm. Sanji would usually double-check with the swordsman at moments like these, asking if Zoro was alright via condescending challenges and sharp banter (he had already, ugh, _connected_ with their swordsman enough as it was by sharing his past; no need to pity the man by outright asking him if he was okay). Zoro responded in kind, and as long as he was coherent enough to keep up the banter and the name-calling, Sanji was convinced that Zoro was relatively alright. For now.

He _had_ needed to step in at other moments, though. Zoro had nearly fallen asleep several times, almost dozing off (or more likely, passing out) when the retaliation of the food in his system became too much to handle. Sanji still wasn't sure, even now, if Zoro would wake up again if he went to sleep at this juncture, and he wasn't about to find out. He kicked Zoro awake every time, just like he'd sworn he would, enough to elicit more than a few angry, rasping swears. Though he'd admittedly been pulling his kicks considerably; even with his old determination back, Zoro's weakened body still couldn't handle the usual kicks Sanji unloaded on him in their regular fights. They were more like nudges than anything else.

The whole ordeal lasted a couple of hours, at least. Sanji lost track of time after a while, and couldn't see the clock from his angle. At last, though, Zoro's breathing began to slow, and the poorly disguised expression of pain and discomfort finally started to melt form the swordsman's face. Sanji nodded grimly; Zoro's body was probably recovering from the shock of nutritional overload enough to deal with processing it. He was out of deep water, at least for tonight. Not that he had really expected anything less from the man.

"Congratulations, marimo," he said cooly, casually, and was once again surprised to find that the voice came naturally to him now; didn't need to be forced, or faked. "Looks like another victory goes to you."

Zoro met his eye briefly, then looked away again. His eyelids were at half mast, and his face was so drawn that Sanji almost felt sorry for him. He was clearly exhausted. Hazily, he slurred, "Great...y'gonna kick me awake again...?"

Sanji considered it, but it probably wasn't necessary anymore, so he shrugged and said, "You're probably fine. I'll be right back, I promised Nami-san I'd let them know—"

But Zoro's eyes were already closed, and as Sanji stared the first of many low snores escaped the swordsman. Well, he knew better than to be surprised at_ that._ And Zoro clearly needed it, anyway. So he turned and made his way as quietly as he could to the infirmary door, to report that their nakama was still staying with them after all.

* * *

You're all hella lucky I managed to stop fangasming over the latest chapter long enough to upload this. 'Scuse me, I need to go back to squeeing now.

You know the drill! If you leave a review, please make it a thoughtful one!

~VelkynKarma


	9. Verbal Assault

**Mindshattered**

Part nine of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched  
With a woeful agony,  
Which forced me to begin my tale;  
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,  
That agony returns:  
And till my ghastly tale is told,  
This heart within me burns."  
~_The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_, Samuel Taylor Coleridge

* * *

The next morning's breakfast was a rather awkward affair. After the whole ordeal with Zoro, Nami-san had (very graciously) switched Sanji's watch shift with Brook's morning one, allowing him to get a few hours of rest once again. He'd been most grateful. Though he had done little other than sit there with the swordsman for a few hours, he'd felt like he'd run ten miles by the end. Funny, how utterly exhausting worry could be.

Of course, while that challenge was over, the morning presented entirely new ones—hence, the awkwardness. Sanji had decided to cook a more elaborate breakfast than usual during his extra morning watch hours, to make up for the half-assed dinner he'd prepared late last night. But halfway into his preparations he'd almost immediately been set upon by none other than Luffy. And strangely enough, this wasn't Luffy as Sanji normally knew him. _This_ captain didn't try to steal food or be generally obnoxious, and instead of his usual blank, stupid stare or cheerful grin he had the expression a kicked puppy might wear if it were human.

"I'm sorry, Sanji," Luffy said, and the apology, while sounding childish, was unquestionably genuine.

Sanji grit his teeth and slammed one of his pots probably harder than was necessary onto the counter. He'd been hoping to avoid this, especially this early in the morning; by all rights Luffy should still be asleep, even _with_ the scents of food about. Last night he'd been furious with their captain for being so stupid, for endangering another crewmate's life even if he hadn't realized it. And after Zoro's recovery and Sanji's subsequent report, he'd avoided confrontation with his captain as well, hoping to let his temper cool.

It wasn't that Luffy deserved it. He'd been dumb, but he hadn't known better. But all the same, Sanji knew he wouldn't have been able to resist putting his foot through Luffy's rubbery face, and not in a mock battle, either. He would have meant it, and the ship really couldn't afford the repairs it would need by the time_ that_ fight would have been finished. Luffy took genuine fights _far_ too seriously for that.

Now, having slept off some of his anger and allowing himself time to recover, Sanji was better—but still not looking forward to this particular confrontation. The nightmares the entire ordeal had dredged up hadn't helped, either. Sanji hadn't dreamt about his recovery back then in a while, but with the memories clawing their way to the surface of his mind in the day, it was no wonder his subconscious recycled them at night. He was not in a terribly good mood as a result.

But Luffy had started it, and Luffy was obnoxiously persistent when he wanted to be. So Sanji schooled his expression, managed to force his tone into something roughly neutral, and said gruffly, "S'fine, Luffy."

"You're still mad," the annoyingly-observant-when-he-shouldn't-be captain noted. His voice had taken that rare, wise tone again, and Sanji sighed as he realized this wouldn't be over as quick as that.

"You were stupid," he answered, sharper than he intended. "Food is _my_ area, Luffy. I don't care if I'd been awake for ten days straight and needed the rest; if Zoro needed food you should have come to _me_."

"I know," Luffy said, very solemnly. "I didn't know food could hurt people like that. I didn't know it would hurt my nakama."

Sanji's eye twitched; that sounded awful familiar. He whirled around and snapped once again, "Food's not the dangerous thing. It's what _people_ do with it that's dangerous!" and glared at his captain in annoyance.

Luffy looked terrible. Sanji briefly wondered if _he'd_ slept at all, or if he'd spent the whole night sitting on the lion's head of the _Sunny_, worrying over his sickly nakama. Then he realized that Luffy was probably reacting to, of all things, _guilt_. He doubted Luffy had ever dealt with it before. Like Zoro, Luffy never seemed to regret anything he did, but Sanji imagined he'd probably never almost killed a nakama either. It would be a confusing mix of emotions for anybody, and for Luffy, who valued his friendships so highly, it had to be a terrible blow.

Sanji gritted his teeth again, and found to his annoyance he actually felt _bad_ about yelling at their captain now, damn it all. So he took a deep breath to steady his voice and said slowly, "Sorry. I'm yelling when I shouldn't. You couldn't possibly have known what would happen. I should have explained it to more people besides Nami-san. I just didn't think anybody else _would_ try to give him meals. That's been my job since I joined the crew at the Baratie."

Luffy nodded again, and though he said nothing, his expression said very, _very_ clearly he wouldn't step over those boundaries again, at least as far as Zoro was concerned. Sanji gave it three days before Luffy was raiding his icebox again for himself, and that was probably being generous.

"I'll explain it to everyone else at breakfast," Sanji continued, "But Zoro can't handle a lot of food right now, and it has to be very specific. _He's_ not rubber, Luffy. Normal humans don't just snap back. Too much could kill him. If he overeats again, it really might kill him this time."

Luffy frowned, clearly struggling to comprehend the fact that too much food could be a _bad_ thing, but asked quickly, "But Zoro's okay now?"

"Yeah," Sanji answered tiredly. "He's alright now. He managed to overcome the shock he went into. It's set his diet back a bit, I'll have to take it a little slower from here for a few days, but...he should be fine, in the end."

Luffy looked relieved. He considered for a moment, staring absently at the food behind Sanji that the cook was still in the process of preparing, and Sanji shifted, preparing to go on the defensive. But his captain made no move to steal anything, and after a moment he spoke.

"He said he was hungry."

Sanji shook his head in exasperation. This had been the exact same excuse Luffy had used yesterday, when he'd first questioned him, and Sanji was going to put it down here and now. "He's going to be hungry for a long time," he said, trying hard to keep his voice from being too snappish. "Hell, even a year after I got off that rock, food was _still_ all I thought about. And not because I'm a cook. I didn't even need it anymore, it just sticks with you—"

"No," Luffy said, very firmly. "That's not what I mean." And at Sanji's confused look, he added, "Zoro doesn't like to admit when he's weak."

"It's not weak, he's _starving_, of course he'd be—"

"But he _thinks_ it's a weakness," Luffy said. "And that's what matters to Zoro."

And Sanji's jaw dropped as, with stunning ease, Luffy uncovered another facet of Zoro's unusual behavior and revealed it with startling clarity. It was like it came second nature to the captain, and Sanji realized it probably had. Complex plans and information and calculations were so incredibly far beyond their captain's reach it was laughable, but he could instantly recognize when something was off around one of his nakama, and lay it bare for anyone else too wrapped up in those complexities to see.

"Something's still wrong with Zoro," Luffy concluded, at the exact same time that the thought flitted into place in Sanji's mind.

Unbidden, another memory, much more recent, quickly followed. _I don't wanna talk anymore_, Zoro had muttered, floating between unconsciousness and wakefulness, and Sanji recalled all too clearly that it had to be a clue to what was causing their swordsman to act so unusually.

"I think I know how to figure it out," Sanji said slowly. Luffy cocked his head quizzically, obviously interested for Zoro's sake, but Sanji merely shook his head at him. "I'll take care of it after breakfast," he promised. "And I'll let you know how it goes, if it turns anything up..."

Luffy nodded, accepting his cook's promise wordlessly, and turned to head out the door. The guilt had been eased somewhat from his face, though that solemn expression was still there. For some reason it unsettled Sanji, and he had an urge to make it disappear. Before he could reconsider, he snatched some of the meatier fare he had already prepared for breakfast and yelled, "Oi! Luffy!"

Luffy spun at the same time he tossed the food, and the captain caught it all expertly with a blink.

"It'll be a while until breakfast," Sanji said, by way of explanation. "You'd better not come barging in here until I'm done, I want it to be perfect for Nami-san!"

Luffy nodded, and his face broke into the characteristic grin that felt much more familiar, and much more safe. "Thanks, Sanji!" he practically cheered, before stuffing the food all at once into his mouth and dashing out of the galley.

"Yeah," Sanji muttered. "Sure." Now he'd have to prepare more; damn fool thing to do. But he smirked all the same; a grinning, hungry Luffy was better by far any day, and well worth a few lost fixings.

* * *

Two hours after breakfast had been served and the dishes cleared and cleaned, Sanji had decided upon his strategy. By the end of the day, come hell or high water, Sanji was going to know just what the hell was causing their swordsman to act all out of sorts. He felt a little guilty about the game plan he was about to enact, but told himself firmly that in the end, it would be necessary. It would be a rotten trick to pull on Zoro, but the alternative was him growing more distant from the crew, maybe even trying to force himself off-ship. Zoro wouldn't survive under those conditions, not now, as Sanji had rightly pointed out days before.

It was a dirty trick to play, but the alternative—an empty, or even dead nakama—was ten thousand times worse.

He grit his teeth in determination and lit a cigarette. He sure as hell was going to need the nicotine before this encounter was through. It felt as though it set him firmly within his chosen course, just like it always did when he lit up in the middle of a battle. There would be no backing down now, and fully prepared, he snatched up the bowl of broth he'd readied and made his way to the infirmary.

Zoro was asleep, chest rising and falling in a thankfully normal rhythm. Brook was on watch with him; he had insisted on it, after being anxiously left out of the proceedings last night. But a quick glance and a jerk of Sanji's head towards the door had the skeleton nodding in understanding and scrambling for the exit. All of the crew members were aware by now that Zoro hated eating while they were around, even though it had never been stated openly. As far as Brook was concerned, this was just another routine meal for their sickly companion.

None of them, save perhaps Luffy, knew what Sanji was about to do. If they had, they might have had more than a few things to say on the subject. He was sure Nami-san especially would forbid him to do it, and if she did, Sanji _knew_ he wouldn't be able to disobey her. For all their sakes, and especially Zoro's, he'd kept his plan concealed. So if Brook noticed the grim, determined look on Sanji's face, he certainly didn't comment, or understand what it could foretell. He simply excused himself and trotted off to find some other way to contribute on the ship.

Sanji closed the door firmly behind him, then set the still-steaming broth down on the desk. He shook Zoro awake quickly, listening attentively, but Zoro came into wakefulness without muttering or grumbling any further hints. A pity, but it wasn't really necessary. Sanji had stewed over that memory from last night for the past two hours, and had everything Zoro had said last time memorized by now. There was enough to go by.

Zoro blinked and stared up at him blearily, still sleepy, and seemed a bit puzzled by Sanji's expression. "Cook?" he asked with a tired yawn. "What the hell—"

"Breakfast," was all Sanji said, and picked up the bowl, holding it in front of the swordsman by way of response.

The gleam of hunger in Zoro's eye was familiar by now, but his mouth twisted into a wary grimace. "You sure...after last night—"

Sanji raised his eyebrow. "You're questioning _me_ about food, marimo?" he drawled almost lazily. "I think I can safely say I know what I'm doing. This is a smaller portion than what I've been giving you before, but you should be able to handle it fine."

Zoro still did not look entirely convinced, but Sanji was already helping him sit up—more like forcing him, really; Zoro was still shakily weak after last night's fiasco—and the swordsman couldn't begin to argue. Nor could he when Sanji brought the bowl to his mouth, and the smell of the broth assailed his senses. Predictably, he lost his control and his reason when food was put before him, and began drinking greedily as soon as the cook tipped the bowl and let its contents trickle forward slowly and carefully.

Predictable indeed. Sanji had known Zoro wouldn't be able to resist food, even after last night, and he'd been counting on it as a part of his strategy.

Zoro finished quickly, almost too quickly, as he always did. As Sanji propped him up against a number of pillows left in the room for just such a purpose, the swordsman began to regain his senses, his discipline, his reason. And as he always did, the twist of frustration and furious shame etched its way onto his face.

Perfect.

"Didn't learn anything...did I," Zoro commented dully, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, his frustration still obvious on his face. "After all that last night. Couldn't even stop myself now. _Damn_ it..."

"I told you," Sanji said, a little sharper than he intended, "It's normal, and it's not going to go away for a while. You can try and control it if you like, but don't be disappointed when you fail...because you will." It was matter of fact, almost cruel, but it was the truth too. Still, Zoro seemed a little surprised at the coldness in his voice, and snapped his head up with a blink and a sudden flash of teeth as he growled in annoyance.

Confrontational, but off balance. If there was ever a time to strike it was now, Sanji decided. And so, reminding himself once again of his resolve, he took the bowl still in his hands and abruptly slammed it down on the desk with a loud _thud._

Zoro didn't quite jump, but his head snapped to the bowl in obvious surprise—everyone who knew Sanji knew he never treated his tableware that way—and then, still surprised, to Sanji himself. "What the hell, cook—"

"Spill it, Zoro," Sanji cut him off, voice exceptionally cold. "What the hell happened back there on that island, before we found you?"

Zoro blanched, and dropped his gaze with such speed it actually caught Sanji by surprise. But the cook schooled his expression, kept only his determination and his resolve apparent, was unrelenting with his own gaze. And after a moment, Zoro responded. "Nothing important. Nothing that matters to you."

"Bullshit," Sanji answered, and before Zoro could respond with a vicious swear or another lame argument, he said firmly, "You talk in your sleep, did you know? _'I don't want to talk anymore. Don't care what you force me to drink this time. Won't talk. Betrayed them too much already.'_" Now Zoro's eyes were wide with surprise, and maybe there was a little horror there too, or loathing, the same look he'd seen before when Zoro had first woken after spouting those chilling words. "You thought I'd been caught there too, when you woke up. You were still out of it. And you looked furious with _yourself_ when you thought you'd discovered that."

Zoro said nothing. He seemed to realize his expression was uncontrolled, giving away far too much information, and hastily looked away at an apparently interesting point on the far wall.

Sanji pressed on more viciously. He hated himself for abusing that point of weakness after Zoro had eaten to break down the man's defenses, but now that it was done he wasn't going to be nice about it any further. Better to get it done all at once, rip everything out in the open, and deal with it then. "Something happened to you on that island, marimo. You've been completely out of it ever since we found you again. The Zoro on the Strawhat crew doesn't ever even consider abandoning it. He's so loyal to the crew he'd rather die for his captain than take the easy way out and survive," Sanji reminded with a snarl, and Zoro visibly flinched at that. "He might be lazy as hell too, sleeping eighteen hours a day on deck in the most inconvenient places, but even _with_ all that sleeping he's never gone out of his way to avoid speaking to the rest of the crew." Sanji narrowed his one visible eye, and finished coldly, "This is too drastic a change for you. You're running from something, or trying to prevent something, or avoiding something. Whatever it is, _something_ happened on that island, and we need to know what it is."

Zoro shot him a glare, but it was sullen, more defensive than his usual scowl or angry stares. "I'm just hungry. And annoyed, 'cause I can't use my swords right now. That's it."

Sanji snorted derisively. "That might work on one of the others, marimo, but you're not fooling me with that lie. I told you last night, _I've been where you are right now_. I know exactly what you're going through, as far as the starvation goes. It might have an effect on your personality, sure. Depression's pretty common with starvation cases; there were some days in _my_ recovery when I didn't want to get up again, either. But it's not enough, not for this drastic change that's happened now."

Zoro didn't answer, but Sanji noted all too well that the swordsman was intentionally not meeting his gaze again, and knew he was on to something. Time to push his advantage, try a different tactic.

"Why do you want to get off the ship so bad?" he asked, slowly, but there was a great deal of force behind his voice, ready to pounce the moment Zoro offered the faintest of clues.

"I already told you, love-cook," Zoro snapped back. "I'm a liability on the ship right now, and I'm not gonna get any of you killed—"

"That's not it," Sanji shot back, more volume than intended in his voice, but the damn swordsman was really starting to get him riled up. "You _know_ not a single damn one of us would kick you off the ship like that. Not Nami-san, not Robin-chan, not any of the other guys, not Chopper...not even me, even if you are obnoxious as all hell nine out of ten days. Certainly not Luffy, he'd keep you on the ship even if you lost all your limbs or were paralyzed or God only knows what else, as long as you wanted to be here. You're a part of this crew. You know that."

Judging by Zoro's expression—hard to see since he was still looking away, but certainly still visible—he did indeed know that, knew it all too well. Sanji nodded grimly, pressed his advantage. "Well? Do you not want to be here?"

Zoro blinked in surprise at that question, out of the blue as it was. His head whipped around to glare at at Sanji, and he hissed, "What kind of question is—"

"Do you not want to be here. On the ship. In this crew. Well?"

"I _shouldn't_ be here right now, not with—"

"_Marimo_," Sanji hissed, and repeated the words slowly and clearly. "Do. You. Not. _Want_. To be here?"

There was no answer, but Zoro's expression was easy enough to read in this off-guard state. He was still a member of the crew, and whether or not he did or didn't believe that he _should_ be there, it was evident to the both of them that he still _belonged_.

"So since you obviously are still a willing member of this crew," Sanji continued, ruthless as ever, "And you _know_ Luffy won't kick you off no matter what happened, regardless of your current state, there's something else making you want to jump ship. It's not your condition. You're weak now, but it's not permanent. There's something else...and that something else happened on the island, before we rescued you."

Zoro's voice was filled with anger, though he still refused to meet Sanji's eye; and there was something else in that tone, something resigned, tired, and maybe a little worried too. "It doesn't matter. As long as I get off the ship, it's not important."

Sanji was beginning to think he was shielding something, or maybe covering something up. _Betrayed them too much already,_ he thought again with a frown, and tried to reconcile it with Zoro's desperate need to cut them all off from himself. He seemed to think everything would be okay, provided he could get off the ship and away from them all. Had he done something to potentially harm one of them? That didn't sound like Zoro, but then,_ Zoro_ wasn't sounding like Zoro right now anyway...

Either way, it didn't matter. He was still going to figure out what happened, one way or another. "It matters, marimo," Sanji snapped back. "You know how Luffy is. If anybody messes with one member of his crew, they feel the wrath of everyone else, especially the captain. Just because we usually end up protecting Nami-san or Usopp or Chopper doesn't mean you're exempt, either. You might think this just concerns you, but trust me...it affects _everyone _here. And that means all of us have the right to know what the hell is going on!"

Zoro didn't appear to have even heard anything Sanji said at the end of his little speech. Eyes suddenly wide, his head whipped around once more, and he fixed Sanji with a fierce look that had something raw and primal buried deeply within, and the cook wasn't sure if it was pure anger or pure fear. "You can't try to get back at him," Zoro went so far as to _order_, and his eyes never left Sanji's. "Don't fight. Keep sailing. This is a fight that can't be won," he said, and once again, that self-loathing that Sanji had seen hints of time and time again reared its ugly head in the swordsman's voice.

"Don't keep digging," Zoro finished, and suddenly he sounded exhausted, worn out, like he was tired of fighting. "Just run. And put me off the ship as soon as you can."

"No," Sanji answered firmly, and then switched to his last, and final, strategy. "I told you what happened to me, marimo," he said, voice low, eyes closed as he forcibly fought back his violent childhood memories again. "I'd say you owe me one."

"You didn't have to tell me anything," Zoro argued back.

"Maybe in your opinion. I think I owed it to you. Before it wasn't necessary; my situation never affected yours. Now it does. You owe us the same, marimo. Tell me what the hell happened on that island."

Zoro merely stared at him, and Sanji was suddenly aware of how weak, how tired the swordsman looked. On impulse, the cook added, "I don't judge, marimo. Not for things like this. I think, after what I shared with you last night, you can trust me in that much."

Silence.

"You'll regret it more if whatever happened there kills the rest of us while we're unprepared," Sanji added. It was a low blow, but it was obvious by now that Zoro was, in a twisted sort of way, trying to prevent something bad from happening to the crew. He would play any card he had now to pull that information free.

Zoro actually flinched at that, and for a brief moment Sanji felt a flash of guilt. The swordsman was silent for some time, and then finally said, very slowly, and so soft it was a hoarse croak more than anything else, "Block the doors."

Sanji blinked, but understood in a heartbeat. Whatever had happened on that island was obviously brutal, enough to mess with their swordsman's head. They didn't need intrusions on top of that. So the cook got up, wordlessly shoved a cabinet and a bookcase in front of the doors to block entry, and then sat down again in his chair next to the cot.

"Some things are hard to remember," Zoro said, and with a frown he tilted his head back once again, closed his eyes as he concentrated. "You don't talk until I say you can, curlybrow. I'm not repeating myself."

"Fine with me," Sanji said cooly.

"It doesn't leave this room."

"I can't promise that," the cook immediately answered. "If the details concern the rest of the crew, I have to share. But if the details aren't necessary, then yeah. It won't leave the room."

"Fine," Zoro said stiffly. Sanji offered him a glass of water to wet his hoarse throat, and Zoro drank it, but he seemed hardly able to pay attention anymore. He'd opened his eyes now, but it was like he was staring far away, seeing something else entirely, _was_ somewhere else entirely.

Then, slowly, he began to talk, from the beginning—the moment Kuma had sent him flying, separating him from the crew. At first Sanji didn't think much of his narrative; Zoro did not have a way with words, and his descriptions were uncultured and to the point. Usopp would have embellished the story considerably, and he was sure even a few other crew mates would be able to tell the story with more flair.

But Zoro's stark retelling was somehow more frightfully grounded in reality. Absent of flowery verse or fanciful language, there was a harshness, a grittiness to those two months that made Sanji feel as though he were there himself, buried in some dark corner of Zoro's mind as he watched everything that happened. And as Zoro continued, slowly but surely, it was all Sanji could do to master his expression, keep the wide-eyed shock and unbridled horror from seeping onto his face.

* * *

What? Stopping there? I'm too cruel! But seriously, it was kinda necessary. Ehehe...

You know the drill! Thoughtful reviews, I like them!

~VelkynKarma


	10. In Memory: Resolve

**Mindshattered**

Part ten of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Note: **A few reviewers across multiple fics have informed me that some non-account people have wanted to review and can't, **so I am dropping the account-only review option.** Honestly I kept forgetting I even had it up ^^; So anonymous readers, feel free to leave a memo if you want to. However, please understand that **I will not be able to respond to your reviews**, as I am not going to put author responses in the fics themselves.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"The past is never dead. It's not even past."

~William Faulkner

* * *

It didn't matter how much they explored the island; neither Zoro nor Perona had found any signs of life currently there. The mansion had been well-stocked with food, there was an expertly-made path leading down to a small natural harbor, and there were plenty of animals on the dark and dreary-looking speck of land. But no matter where they looked on it (and it was quite large, as far as Zoro could tell) they hadn't met any other people or seen other villages or ships.

It was going to make getting off this island slightly harder than he had first anticipated, Zoro decided, but that didn't mean it was impossible. He'd swim if he had to, or make a boat out of the strange trees on the island. His swords weren't meant for cutting wood, but this was a battle in its own way, and he had to get back to Sabaody and the others as soon as possible. Who knew what that damned admiral would do to the rest of the Strawhats in his absence. Or worse, Kuma. He shuddered at what sort of deals the man might be making with other crew members, but knew no matter who he dealt with, none of them would survive one of those pain bubbles in their current states. Hell, _he_ barely had as it was.

His chest throbbed at the memory, and he pressed one hand absently to the fresh bandages wrapped over his wounds. That ghost girl hadn't known how to wrap a wound at all. But she was a surprisingly fast learner, and Zoro had enough experience with bandaging his own wounds in the past to effectively give instructions. She'd sullenly agreed to help him re-wrap his injuries and give him his swords back, provided he helped her find a way off the island and kept her well protected from 'ruffians' until they managed to escape. It was only a temporary deal, and he'd been willing enough to agree. She seemed more scared of him than anything else, so he doubted she'd cause trouble, and she _was_ eager to get off the island.

She was annoying as hell though, Zoro thought for the hundredth time with an irritated sigh, as her shrill voice cracked through the air from twenty feet above him. Even in her astral form she retained the ability to make a person's ears bleed. He'd learned to tune some of it out, but with the new pitch her voice was taking, it sounded like she was pretty angry.

"—you even _listening_ to me, Zoro? Hey! Swordsman! I'm talking to _you!_"

"I haven't seen anything new," Zoro shot back with a growl of annoyance. "Quit bugging me if—"

"Of course _you_ haven't," she said, glowering down on him with one hand on her hip. The other was wrapped easily around her umbrella, unfolded over her head and giving the illusion that she was floating by it, though by now Zoro knew better. _"I_ have, that's what I've been trying to tell you! But if you don't want to listen, then maybe I don't want to share, anyway—"

Zoro's eye twitched. It had only been three days he'd been stuck with the woman, and yet already he knew what that tone meant. Perona was stubborn, even more so when she got like this, and there was only one way around it. Gritting his teeth, he growled just loud enough to hear, "Sorry."

"Excuse me? I can't _hear_ you—"

"I said I'm sorry for not listening," Zoro bit off, fighting the urge to fire a pound cannon in her general direction. Not to hit her, he'd promised he wouldn't; just to scare her is all. Stupid witch.

"Good," she responded, and her shrill voice took on some manner of cheerfulness. "Like I was saying, there's a ship in that harbor we found yesterday, and—"

"What does it look like?" Zoro interrupted. Perona looked like she was about to complain, but the intensity in his eyes clearly gave her second thoughts. She shook her head with a grimace and then shielded her eyes as she glanced down in the direction of the harbor.

"It doesn't look like yours," she said after a moment. "I don't see that adorable lion figurehead. I don't think it's a marine ship either, I don't see the gull on the sails." She frowned and squinted, trying to pick out details. "It's just brown. There's no special figurehead, I don't see a pirate flag, and I can't see a name on it this far away. You know it?"

Zoro shook his head, frowned in the direction of the harbor path. He'd hoped for a fleeting moment that Luffy had managed to beat wherever he'd been sent out of Kuma and set sail to find him, but apparently that wasn't the case. Maybe they were still back on Sabaody, or maybe they were all dead, but they sure weren't here. It wasn't a marine ship, so that was good at least...but Zoro had a gut feeling that something wasn't right about this ship's arrival. His hands dropped to his swords.

"What is it?" Perona asked, noticing the sudden tension.

"Get down here," Zoro ordered sharply. "You're too easy to spot up there."

It was a mark of how serious the situation was that she obeyed immediately, instead of bickering with him over who gave the orders. "Is something wrong?" she asked instead, hovering only a few feet above him now.

"Not sure. Something doesn't feel right." He grimaced absently as another twinge of pain shot through his re-broken, still not fully healed injuries, and did his best to ignore it. He could practically smell a battle in his future now, and he couldn't afford to falter because of a few wounds now if things got serious.

Perona looked a little anxious now. "Should we hide?"

Zoro considered it. "Maybe," he admitted reluctantly. At least, he promised himself, until he had a better gauge of their enemies, if there were any. He'd fight if he had to, but he still really wasn't in any condition to jump into a prolonged battle. Thankfully he didn't have the full crew to protect for once. And though he'd promised to protect Perona temporarily, in her current form she couldn't even be attacked anyway. Her body was still relatively safe back in the castle.

The two dived behind some of the broken-down rubble that had probably once been houses, littered alongside the path to the harbor. Here they waited, Zoro with a tight grip on _Wadou_, ready to draw at any moment, and Perona half curled literally inside a large block of stone. Part of him felt stupid, hiding from fights like Usopp might. But a deeper part of him reasoned that he had to stay alive long enough to reach the crew again, and if that meant avoiding fights, well then, he'd just have to suck it up and do it. Even if he _did_ hate every moment of it—

His thoughts ground to a halt as he heard the sudden crunching of boots on the gravelly path, and his grip tightened even further on his katana hilt. The footsteps continued for some time, moving past them before pausing. Silence reigned.

Zoro risked taking a peek, but at his angle he couldn't see where he thought the other person might have stopped at. He nodded at Perona and then jerked his head in the direction of the mysterious walker, and she slipped completely into and through the stone to try and catch her own glimpse. A few moments later her face re-emerged from the stone block, and she shook her head, mouthing,_ Nobody there._

Zoro froze, and knew with sudden certainty that whoever it was that had just walked past them, _knew they were there_. Drawing _Wadou _slowly, trying to keep the noise to a minimum, he set the katana in his mouth and started to draw the others.

He was interrupted as the first attack came from behind him. Moving purely on instinct, Zoro felt the assault aimed at him and dived to the side at the last minute, hitting the rubble and rolling shakily to his feet. His chest throbbed again, but he ignored it, instead whipping both _Shuusui_ and _Kitetsu_ from their sheathes and bringing all three swords to bear.

The stone he had been hiding behind, the one Perona had been hiding _in_, shattered suddenly under the forceful attack of their mysterious new arrival. The rock crumbled, and Perona swerved aside and into the air with an enraged and frightened shriek of surprise, startled but unable to be hurt. The assailant, a black blur, flipped itself smoothly into the air and landed with a slide back on the gravelly path.

It stood, and suddenly Zoro was able to identify his attacker, though not recognize him. It was a man, looking to be in his early to mid thirties. He was relatively tall and quite skinny, with a clean-shaven face and close-cropped light blond hair. He was dressed smartly in a navy blue shirt, black slacks, and showy but functional boots. A longcoat, black in color, whipped about his frame, and a black bowler hat sat upon his head, completing the outfit.

"Good evening," the man said cooly, seemingly unfazed that Zoro had managed to dodge, and a second later the swordsman knew why. "I must confess, I am a mite shocked to find the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro wandering around my island. And alone, at that. A most unusual incident."

"_Alone?_ Ex_cuse_ me?" Perona snapped, apparently over her shock. Zoro shot her a warning look, but it only made her plant her hands on her hips again in annoyance as she glared down at the attacker.

"I was referring to the absence of this man's crew," the man informed her cooly. "I do not recognize you, however, so you must not have a bounty, or if you do it was released too recently for the information to be widespread yet."

"You're a bounty hunter," Zoro stated, not asked, and narrowed his eyes over_ Wadou_'s hilt.

"Most astute of you," the man said with a nod, "but I suppose I should expect nothing less from a former hunter such as yourself, Roronoa Zoro. My name is Magnus Panaceam, but the code name assigned to me on my hunter's license is the Alchemist. You may refer to me as either."

"You're a hunter directly in the Marines' employ, then," Zoro noted with disgust. Even back in the days when he'd hunted bounties to get by, he'd preferred a more neutral stance. He turned pirates in to the Marines, but he didn't support them, either. There were plenty of hunters that worked for the Marines even if they hadn't officially joined, however...and it sounded like this guy might be one of them.

"Indeed I am," the man acknowledged. "Roronoa's distaste for the military is well known. I am aware that you were a freelance hunter even in your days as _the demon_. And now, naturally, you are the military's enemy."

"And yours."

"Very true," the Alchemist agreed again. "You understand I cannot give up such an opportunity. One hundred and twenty million beri, and without a single crew mate to back you up. And, if I am not mistaken, you are also wounded," he added, with a nod to the openly exposed bandages still wrapped around Zoro's torso.

Zoro glared across at him, and muttered around _Wadou_'s hilt, "You can try it. I've got places to be, though, so I'll make this quick."

"Agreed. I have a rather busy schedule, myself," the Alchemist said, and launched himself forward.

Zoro was immediately taken off guard by the man's straightforward attack. The Alchemist made no attempt to dodge or zig-zag as he shot forward over the stones, merely pushed straight forward like an arrow. The man had to be insane, then. Couldn't he see Zoro was holding _three _swords, and each one was honed to a razor's edge? He could cut stone without a moment's hesitation with any of these blades; human flesh was like wet tissue to him.

But the man came unhesitatingly forward, and Zoro's strikes did not hesitate either. One, two, three slashes with all three blades, each aimed for a vital place on the man's body, and still he did not bother to dodge or back away—

The unmistakable _clang_ of metal on metal reached Zoro's ears, and his eyes widened in surprise. All three of his katana had come to an abrupt halt, smashing into the man's body but not biting through flesh.

Before he had a chance to even begin to discern what had happened, or where the noise had come from, the Alchemist's fist came out with absolute precision and smashed into Zoro's torso, right over the thickest of the bandages. A spike of fiery pain lanced through his whole body, and Zoro stumbled back with a groan. He felt the stone impact with his back before he'd even realized he was falling, and coughed as he felt warm blood in his throat.

Damn it. _Damn_ it. The man was intentionally targeting his wounds, attacking his obvious weakness to try and gain an advantage over him. And Zoro's perfectly aimed strikes had done nothing in return! It had sounded as though he'd impacted on metal, but that was impossible. Only Mr. One possessed a Devil Fruit to make his skin like steel, and there could be no replicas. What the hell was going on?

He heard Perona's warning shriek, and regained his senses in time to see the Alchemist standing above him. His fists were raised, one hand clamped over the other, and as he watched the man brought both fists down in a powerful drive that was, once again, aimed at Zoro's chest injuries.

Zoro swore, and rolled himself aside just in time, stumbling to his feet as he did so. The man's fists connected solidly with the stone he'd just been laying on instead, and the entire thing shattered into gravel, sending it raining over the two of them. Zoro's eyes widened in surprise at the force of the blow. Had that connected, it wouldn't have just aggravated his injuries; his entire chest, and everything inside of it, would have been crushed.

Still, power was worth nothing if you were dead. Thinking—hoping—that the last attack had just been a fluke, Zoro snarled a quick "_Oni Giri!_" and launched himself forward, striking rapidly with all three swords once again.

The result was another series of ringing _clangs_, and though Zoro listened hard he didn't hear any involuntary grunts of pain from his opponent. He spun quickly to face the man once again, and found the Alchemist staring at him from across the way, perched on another large block of abandoned stone.

"You are confused," the man observed. "I am not a Devil Fruit user, I assure you, though my current ability does come from studying Daz Bones' Fruit powers." He held up one hand, which for all the world appeared to be flesh, and said cooly, "I am currently using a Steelskin Potion. It is a potion of my own creation and gives the imbiber flesh with the properties of steel for approximately ten minutes. I drank it just before engaging you, Roronoa Zoro. It seemed an intelligent choice, considering your skills as a swordsman."

Zoro's eyes narrowed, but that did explain a few things. He could see, even from here, that the Alchemist's coat had been torn in many places where his successive sword strikes had hit, but the flesh underneath remained unflawed. It also explained how the man was able to shatter boulders with his fists; rock always lost to the firmness of steel.

But Zoro had beaten Mr. One, and this man would be no different. If his flesh was like steel, then Zoro would just have to cut it. Snapping two of his swords back into their sheathes, he snatched _Wadou_ quickly from his mouth and dug into his mind, seeking the depths of meditation that would allow him to cut both Everything and Nothing all at once—

—And screamed, because the Alchemist's fist drove suddenly into his already wounded chest once again with vicious precision. His connection with that deep mental discipline snapped, and Zoro felt himself launched backwards, hitting the rubble with a stuttering gasp. He could feel wetness on his front now, knew his wounds from Thriller Bark had broken open yet again. They hadn't had a chance to heal completely before the Sabaody fiasco, and had only been made worse in the fight with Kuma before he'd been launched here...

He coughed, spat blood down onto the stones, and struggled to rise, but his body was screaming at him now. And his mind, too, and that was when he realized that the Alchemist was closing in again—

"Don't ignore me!" came Perona's shriek, sounding unusually echoy, and Zoro glanced up in time to find her astral form—at least ten times its usual size—stomping down at the Alchemist angrily with one gothic red boot. The man leapt back immediately, on the defensive, with one hand plunging deeply into his coat for who knew what. Zoro lost sight of him then as Perona's enlarged foot blocked his line of sight, but he used the interruption to struggle to his feet with a barely suppressed groan.

Perona took a step forward, clearing his vision once again, and he frowned suddenly at the Alchemist's expression. He'd looked wary at first, hesitant, but the calm expression was back on his face now. "An illusion," the man said crisply. "Very clever, you had me surprised for a minute there. But your foot didn't cause the ground to shake, and no dust was cast up. You have no affect on the material world; thus, you are not a threat."

"Just because I can't step on you doesn't mean I'm not dangerous!" Perona shot back arrogantly, but she sounded deeply annoyed that the man was, for the most part, ignoring her. "I'll show you..._Negative Hollow!_"

Zoro grimaced automatically as the little ghost burst forth; he'd had enough encounters with those little bastards in the past few days to last a lifetime. But for once it wasn't aimed at him, and instead it arrowed straight for the Alchemist, plunging into and through his chest.

The man staggered back for a moment at the spiritual impact, and Zoro waited for him to drop to his knees. He wondered, briefly, what this man might regret. Perona was already grinning victoriously and shrinking to her usual size, hands on hips once again.

But then, to the surprise of the both of them, the opposing man straightened his back and met their eyes once more. "An intriguing ability," he said. "I will have to study it later."

Perona looked shocked. "But...but the hollow..." Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, worriedly, she hissed, "_You're_ not negative about yourself too, are you?"

"I am completely emotionless about both myself and my abilities," he answered cooly. "I have skills that I perform for my job, and I perform that job as needed. It is neither satisfactory nor unpleasant for me. It simply is."

Perona's eyes widened, and she dived behind Zoro suddenly, clearly believing herself outmatched. He grimaced, but tried to ignore the sharper, more insistent pain coming form his chest and once again tried to focus his mind for the concentration needed to cut steel—

"Look out!" Perona shrieked, and Zoro threw himself aside just in time once again. The Alchemist's fist grazed his side regardless, and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. The man might not be able to make his skin turn into blades like Mr. One could, but being hit by a ball of steel on top of already damaging injuries was still no picnic.

The Alchemist pressed on ruthlessly, and Zoro managed to draw a second sword enough to block the man's flesh-metal fists. "Are cheap shots the only way you can win?" he rasped, as the man aimed punch after punch at his bandages.

"Not at all," the man answered cooly, "But it certainly is safer. I am no fool, Roronoa Zoro. The reports of the fights you and your crew have pulled through are nothing short of miraculous. Just because you are wounded does not mean you will not be able to kill me. I will take no chances and finish this as quickly as I can, by exploiting any means possible." He finished by launching another fist at Zoro's bandaged chest, one that Zoro barely deflected.

The swordsman grimaced. He was in deep trouble here. The man seemed fairly knowledgeable about his past fights. That meant he probably knew that Zoro had a technique to cut steel, and wasn't about to let him concentrate enough to use it. The swordsman could barely defend himself, and with that Steel-skin whatever, he couldn't create an offensive defense either. He could try to wait out the ten minute time limit the Alchemist had admitted to, but he doubted he could make it that long, even if the man was telling the truth. He could already feel his limbs shaking from too-soon exertion and too many wounds piled up on top of each other without a chance to rest.

The Alchemist made his next choice for him. He swung his fist wide, very suddenly, aiming for Zoro's ribs. Purely on instinct, the swordsman lowered one katana to block it, hoping to deflect the flesh-steel fist away. But the Alchemist did the unexpected, something Zoro's years of experience with the sword could not have ever prepared him for: he grabbed the blade with his bare hand in a tight fist, and gripped tightly.

Zoro's eyes widened as he realized the man's newest attack, and he tried to wrench _Kitetsu_ free from the man's grip, but it was too late. With an experienced twist, the man brought his second fist up and around in Zoro's blind spot, where he could no longer guard his side with his sword.

The fist smashed into his head with brutal accuracy. Zoro saw stars burst before his eyes, felt the explosion of white-hot pain in his head, but that was all he had time to register. Before his body even hit the stones, he had already lost his vision and his consciousness to the blackness.

* * *

When Zoro woke later, it was to two things: a sharp, insistent pain in his head, and a lower, more throbbing tempo of pain somewhere deep in his chest.

With a groan, the swordsman wrenched his eyes open, and bit back a curse as light immediately assaulted his aching head. It was like having a hangover, but ten times worse. With a hangover, at least he knew he'd had a good time the night before. He knew on no uncertain terms that there had been nothing good about his last waking moments, and any good times in the future were far out of sight.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on forcing the pain down, trying his best to ignore it. After a moment when he was better prepared, he slowly opened his eyes again and tried to take stock of his surroundings.

The light came form a torch, fastened to a bracket on the far wall. It cast its flickering light sporadically, and was a bit difficult to see due to the iron bars slashing across his vision. A quick twist of his head verified that he was surrounded by three other stone walls. Imprisoned in a cell then. Dammit.

He was on his side on the cell floor, with his face jammed into the cold, filthy stone. With a grimace he tried to sit up, but it was more difficult than he had first anticipated. His arms were wrenched behind him, shackled tightly together. And these were no normal shackles; they didn't merely bind his wrists, but wrapped chains all the way up to his elbows, guaranteeing he wouldn't be breaking free any time soon.

Still, even with the numerous aches and pains covering his entire person, and the difficult angle at which his arms had been tied, Zoro was determined. After a few initial failed tries he managed to get himself sitting up in the middle of the cell, cross-legged. His new vantage point allowed for better observations of his surroundings, and in the dim torchlight he noticed a number of things immediately. First, that his swords were gone—not that he expected his captor to let him keep them in the first place, but it was still annoying. Second, his haramaki, and the sword-belt he usually wore underneath it, were gone as well, as were his boots. His bandanna was nowhere to be seen either, which was a pity, and he couldn't feel the weight of his earrings on his left side, or hear their usual jangle. And, strangely enough, his bandages had been changed. He was sure of it, because he _knew_ his fight with the Alchemist had broken open his wounds again, but the ones wrapped around his chest now bore no bloodstains.

Now that was odd. Why would the man who had been trying to kill him go through the trouble of healing him?

There was the stomp of hard boots on stone stairs, and a moment later the man in question himself entered through a door not too far away from his own cell. Zoro guessed this was a dungeon, in which case, he was probably in the second cell, not that it mattered terribly. The man was without his hat now, but still wore the longcoat, which had since been expertly sewn to repair all the tears Zoro had put in it.

The Alchemist glanced into the cell next to Zoro's, shook his head with a tsk, and then came to stand in front of the swordsman. "Awake, I see," the man observed. "You are quite a recoverer, Roronoa. It has only been five hours since our battle on the Harbor Lane."

Zoro glared at him, and said instead, "Where did you take my swords? And my haramaki."

"They are safe. I would not dream of tampering with such exquisite tools," the man explained. Zoro's glare grew fiercer, but the Alchemist seemed unfazed, and merely shook his head. "Do you honestly think I would tell you? You are a man of surprises, Roronoa, as I have already witnessed. I do not intend to arm you with any further knowledge you could use to save yourself."

Zoro snorted, and finding the man uninteresting now, merely turned away.

"Do you know why you are still alive, Roronoa Zoro?" The Alchemist asked, almost conversationally.

Zoro sighed, but the man didn't seem to be trying to bait him, so he answered. "Dead bounties drop the returns by thirty percent."

The Alchemist raised an eyebrow. "That is true, that is true. I would expect no less form a former hunter. Eighty-four million beri is a nice reward, but why settle when one hundred twenty million can be had instead? But I'm afraid that isn't the only reason, Roronoa Zoro."

Zoro didn't respond, but he figured the guy would explain soon enough. He could already tell the man liked hearing himself talk. And sure enough, after a few moments of silence, the man went right on, unperturbed by Zoro's obvious lack of interest.

"You realize that the crew you belong to is collectively worth seven hundred million beri?" the man asked, again conversationally.

Zoro snorted. "I'd _love_ to see you try to take down my whole crew," he said with a sneer that could practically be heard in his voice as well. "You caught me because you got lucky. If you try going after Luffy and the others, you're screwed."

He expected the man to boast about how strong he was, to underestimate the Straw Hat crew as they all did, every single one of the annoying bastards so full of themselves and their so-called power. What he hadn't expected was for the man to cock his head, close his eyes, and answer agreeably, "I'm quite aware of that."

Zoro blinked in surprise, and his next scathing retort was cut off completely by his own shock.

The man had opened his eyes now and was regarding Zoro curiously. "You are surprised that I would admit such a thing? I've been in the business far longer than you, Roronoa. I've been hunting wanted heads for over ten years on the Grand Line. I didn't get where I am today—which is to say, still alive in this business—by underestimating those bounties. Your crew is extraordinary, you know. I haven't seen such a thing since Gol D. Roger's days on the seas. Going in unprepared against a captain and his followers with such feats to their credit is asking to die."

Zoro narrowed his eyes. He didn't like where this was heading. "Then why bring it up," he growled, knowing he was falling for the man's bait, but needing to know anyway.

The Alchemist regarded him cooly, and answered, "Why, naturally, you are going to help me prepare for that encounter, Roronoa Zoro. Preparedness is clearly the key."

Zoro bristled instantly. Eyes narrowed, teeth bared, he glared at the man and spat, "Like hell. There's no way I'd help you beat them, not for anything!"

"Nothing?" The man said, still with that freakishly calm, cold voice. "I'm sure that isn't the case. For example, I may be able to offer you your life." Zoro continued to glare at him hatefully, and the man expanded. "I have some pull with the Marine headquarters in this area. If you are cooperative, I will speak with them and see if I can reinstate your Hunter status. Perhaps even award you a military license. A bounty turn in of five hundred eighty million is still quite a reasonable sum, if your own bounty is rescinded. And if not, I can at least ensure that your execution is quick and clean."

"Go to hell," Zoro spat, still furious. "Like I'd even consider that!"

"But surely Roronoa Zoro is tired of having his loyalties tied," the man stated. "It is well known that your goal is to be the greatest swordsman in the world. Your master is strong, but reports of late indicate that your goal may have been compromised recently—"

"I don't have a master," Zoro snarled at him, and his eyes burned as he watched the man on the other side of the cell bars.

"No master?" the Alchemist repeated quizzically. "But you have been powerfully loyal to this Straw Hat Luffy for some time, now. If he does not _own_ your loyalties...then your bonds are one of friendship, I can only assume." The man nodded. "That would match up with some of the reports I've read. Marines seem to think pirates are scum incapable of friendship, but I know better. Well, it will be a more difficult bond to break, but in the end the results will be the same. You will help me to prepare for capturing the Straw Hats, Pirate Hunter Zoro."

"I don't think you heard me the first time," Zoro snarled back. "_Fuck you_. I won't do a damn thing for you."

"You misunderstand, Roronoa Zoro," the man said cooly. "You don't have a choice in the matter. Please consider my offer; I mean it with the greatest of sincerity. Even if you are a filthy pirate now, I still have respect for a man who could survive the difficult path of a Hunter as well. I will give you a day to consider it.

"But if you do not accept," the man finished, as he headed for the door he'd first come from, "Please understand that it will not be the end of my preparations. You have presented me with an opportunity, and I intend to seize it. If you do not cooperate, I will have to break you instead, but I _will_ get the information I desire out of your mind." He nodded once. "Good evening, Roronoa Zoro, and consider well."

Zoro waited until the heavy tread of boots going up stairs was gone once again, and finally let himself sag, exhausted, with a sigh. He didn't need the night to consider his answer; there was no way in hell he'd betray his nakama, not for any offer or any price. He'd rather die, if it came to it, and he supposed that was still a very likely possibility.

But he didn't like what that man had to say about..._breaking_ him. It hadn't sounded like a bluff; the man seemed to genuinely believe he could do it. Zoro was already beginning to sense a complete and utter coldness, a vivid ruthlessness about the man that he couldn't quite place, but already loathed, and had a distinct feeling that if the man said he could do it, he would do his damnedest to make it happen.

Zoro could only hope, whatever it was, that he could withstand it for the sake of his friends.

* * *

The Alchemist visited the next morning (Zoro assumed, anyway, as there was no clock down here, and no windows to tell the massage of time). He brought with him two bowls; one filled with water, and the other with a few strips of dried meat and a piece of bread. These he pushed unceremoniously through the bars of Zoro's prison before saying calmly, "Have you reached your decision?"

Zoro eyed the food and water skeptically. "What...not going to withhold food if I refuse you?"

"I don't see any reason to yet," the man answered cooly. "I'm not familiar with your limits. May I assume your answer is 'no,' then?"

"How'd you guess," Zoro sneered at him. "I told you three times yesterday. My opinion won't change in one evening."

"A pity, really," the man answered, "But I suppose it can't be helped. You have your convictions, and I have mine. It is a shame, however, that I will have to break such an excellent Hunter."

Zoro didn't deign that with an answer.

But the man didn't pull out the thumbscrews or the rack or any other number of torture devices that day. He asked hundreds of questions instead, all of them regarding the Straw Hat crew. Where were they now? Why had Zoro been separated from them, and ended up alone on his island? Who was the strongest member of the crew? The weakest? How did he rate them all in terms of strength? What were their fighting abilities, their tactics, their weaknesses? What were their pasts? Their relations? Other exploitable bits of information? Did they have any other non-combat skills of especial notice? What were the strengths and weaknesses of the ship itself?

On and on and on, until Zoro found it a wonder that the man could keep talking without wetting down his throat with a drink. For his part, he ignored each and every question, even curled up on the cold cell floor in an attempt to take a nap. It didn't work, not with his arms wrenched back uncomfortably like they were, but at least he made his point clear: he wasn't talking. And if the man's interrogation skills finished at annoying him into spilling, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

The man left after hours of failed questioning, leaving Zoro alone in the almost-dark apart from one torch. He used the moment to roll back into a sit (he was getting better at it, now) and carefully scooted closer to the door to examine the food. He hadn't touched it while the man was there; he had to eat, but he didn't need the Alchemist thinking he was desperate. Not to mention, with his hands wrenched behind his back, he'd have to eat much like a dog would, face first. It would be an undignified pain in the ass, and he was glad nobody, friend or foe, could see him now.

He gave the strips of meat and the bread a cursory sniff, but couldn't really discern if it was safe enough from just that. For a fleeting moment he wished the damn love-cook was there— Sanji'd probably be able to tell him with just a glance if it was okay to eat or not. Actually, scratch that; Sanji'd be able to help him break down the door and they could get the hell out of there, and probably pound that bastard's face in while they were at it.

But wishful thinking was useless, and wasn't going to fill his stomach either, so with a growl of grim resolve he set to wolfing the bowl's contents down as quickly as he could. It wasn't quite rancid, but it was clearly on the cusp of edibility. He forced it down, quelled his stomach with sheer force of will, and hastily drained the water in the bowl as well as he could. It tasted stale and a little gritty, but it was better than nothing.

When he had finished he heard a whimper to his left, and cocked his head quickly, listening. The noise repeated itself, and after a moment he heard Perona's voice mutter, "Oh, _ow_...what's going on? Where am I?"

"Shit," Zoro muttered, and then, "Ghost girl. You here too?"

"Zoro? Where are you?"

"Cell next to yours, sounds like," the swordsman called. "Damn. Caught you too, I guess."

"Caught...Ooooh! That Alchemist guy!" Zoro couldn't quite tell if she was angry or frightened by her voice, but either option made it shrill and piercing, and he winced. "He knocked you out and I couldn't do anything. So I flew back to my body and tried to hide, but he found me..." There was another whine from next door, and then she muttered, "Ooooh, my head...he must've hit me too, it hurts..."

"Yeah, well..." Zoro muttered, not really sure what to say. Then, "Can you ghost your way out?"

"No..." There was a frustrated growl that seemed to turn into a sniff partway. "I think these are seastone cuffs, I can't use my projection_ or_ my hollows..."

"Figures." Too smart by half, this bastard.

"What're we going to do?" She sounded anxious now. "I don't want to be here anymore, I just want to find Moria-sama and go home!"

"Calm down," Zoro snapped at her. "We'll figure something out. It's only been a day. I've been in worse situations."

"Maybe _you_ have. I haven't! I just want cute animals and servants and—"

"Shut up!" Zoro hissed at her suddenly. There was an unmistakable sound of boots on stone steps again, and that could only mean one thing: their captor was returning. "Just stay calm," he repeated. "We'll think of something. Trust me."

Then the Alchemist had arrived. This time he went straight to Perona's cell and began speaking to her instead, ignoring Zoro completely. Her interrogation was much the same as his own had been: hundreds of questions, which she refused to answer, unless it was to brag about her own self. Zoro finally decided to tune it out and try for a nap again. His wrenched arms still made laying down uncomfortable, but his own exhaustion helped with that, and he was asleep within seconds.

* * *

The following day went much the same as the first. The Alchemist brought barely edible food for his uncooperative captives, and asked them the same questions that they still refused to answer. Zoro found the entire situation mind-numbingly boring, but little else.

The third day, however, was much different.

This time, the Alchemist didn't merely stand outside his cell and fire off question after inexhaustible question at him. This time, the man actually entered his cell, stood over him, and cooly recited his queries. Zoro ignored him as before, refusing to answer, but the man did not let his lack of response stand for long. Every time Zoro refused to answer a question, he received a hard smack or a kick, often directed at the already wounded parts of his person.

Still, Zoro refused to succumb that easily. The attacks hurt, sent waves of fire through his already wounded body, but he ignored it as he ignored every other injury he'd ever taken in the middle of a battle. Because this _was_ a battle, now; not with swords, but with wills. It didn't matter what the weapon was, Zoro refused to lose, had promised he would _never_ lose again.

When the man's kicks became more and more insistent alongside his questions, Zoro would only respond with a grunt or a swear, or a baleful look that promised infinite pain when he was no longer bound and locked away. The man did not seem afraid of that glare, the same one that had made marines shake in their boots, so Zoro tried a new tactic: in the middle of the interrogation, he laid down, rolled over, and did his best to take a nap.

The kicks came that much harder afterwards, but Zoro figured he'd made his point.

The food that day had actually _hurt_ to eat. Not that it was any different fare; it was the same barely-edible dried meat and gritty water. But he'd spent a lot of time during his questioning coughing blood, and his throat was raw. Not to mention the hundreds of sharp, merciless kicks to his stomach made it rather queasy, and the food churned uncomfortably as soon as he'd managed to force it down. He'd thrown it back up within the hour in a corner, and dealt with a complaining stomach for the rest of the night.

Hell.

The next day was exactly the same as the first; the same questions, the same kicks, the same shitty food. He still held his silence, other than the occasional swear or grunt or gasp of pain, though it was starting to get harder to hold his reactions to the pain in check. He knew his wounds were being aggravated more and more, and they throbbed constantly now even when the man wasn't attacking him. The only notable exception was that he'd managed to keep dinner down that night, out of sheer force of will, though it had been one hell of a nauseating night.

The next day was a little different, though. The man was predictable, asked the same questions, used the same annoying tactics, but that actually worked in Zoro's favor. He knelt in the middle of the cell and accepted the questions and the beatings silently, doubled over at one point when a particularly nasty kick hit him straight in the stomach, and held his breath, waiting. The man repeated his question, and this time Zoro answered; not with words, but with a sudden rush of movement as he gathered the strength in his legs and shot straight up into a stand.

He'd bodily checked the man into the wall with his shoulder before the Alchemist could so much as cry out, grinding him into the cell's stone walls with vicious accuracy. The man grunted in pain, and sagged, and Zoro wasted no time disengaging and bolting for the door. The Alchemist had chained it closed for the duration of his visit, just like he had the past two days, but it was a flimsy door chain with a crappy lock at best. Zoro might not be able to break steel with his bare hands, but that thing wouldn't withstand the force of a good blow from Usopp, let alone himself. Another sharp body-check to the door had the chain links shattering, and Zoro was running for the dungeon door seconds later.

He darted past Perona's cell, saw her eyes wide with excitement. It quickly melted to horror, though, and she gestured with her chin, as her arms were bound behind her as well. "Behind you!"

Zoro felt the blow to the back of his head before he could even start thinking about turning around. His vision went black, and the last thing he heard was an appraising, "Clever."

* * *

I swear this is the last time I'll cliffhang you with this sequence.

...maybe.

Please excuse a messier chapter than usual. I am sick, and that makes for an absent-minded Karma and really crappy editing.

I realized afterwards that most people reading this are in the anime/manga world, which means they'll equate Alchemy with Fullmetal Alchemist. This was not intended. Actually, the inspiration for the Alchemist's abilities is World of Warcraft's 'alchemy' profession (with potions and brewing things and all that jazz). No handclapping here!

You know the drill guys. Reviews. Thoughtful. Many thanks.

~VelkynKarma


	11. In Memory: Shattered

**Mindshattered**

Part eleven of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Note:** I used a neat writing-style analyzer for a lot of the sections of this chapter, which compares it to the writing styles of currently existing authors. I got turns outs like Stephen King. That should make the warning that much clearer...ehehehe...

**Warnings:** _This chapter gets VERY dark and can be **considered rated M** for graphic descriptions of psychological cruelty and torture.** You've been warned.**_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes..."

~_1984_, George Orwell

* * *

Zoro didn't get dinner that night. The Alchemist coolly explained it was his punishment for attempting to escape, that his one and only meal of the day would be revoked. Zoro glared at him and tried to pretend that he didn't care, even if his rumbling stomach could probably be heard two floors above them.

He would be fine. Hell, one day of no food was nothing; he'd made it quite a few days with nothing to eat in the past. Notably when he'd first met Luffy, tied to that annoying post in Shelltown. One day without a meal would be a piece of cake.

_Cake when nothing's happening_, a little voice in his head shot back at him sullenly. _How often have you gone without meals while getting the crap kicked out of you every day?_

He told himself firmly to shut up, and tried to focus on sleeping instead.

The next day continued as all the others had: mindlessly repeated questions, interspersed with hundreds of punches and kicks when they weren't answered. The Alchemist did not seem terribly perturbed at Zoro's attempt to escape, or at his obvious resistance, and merely continued his chosen torture methods with dogged perseverance. It disturbed Zoro more than he really cared to admit.

The pain was nothing. He could survive that. But this man...it was like there was something wrong with him. Even when he consistently laid out punishment, Zoro had never detected a kick made out of malice or sadism. Nor did it seem like the man was doing so for _justice_ or _honor_ or whatever other crap some Marines liked to spout. No, everything the Alchemist did was done with a cold measure of precision, completely emotionless. The only other being Zoro had ever seen to act similarly were the Pacifistas they'd met on Sabaody, and even then, those were robots. This man was human, Zoro was sure of it...but he was the most cold-blooded human Zoro had ever seen in his life.

He received his usual meal the next night, and wolfed it down as best as he could, doing his damnedest to keep the food in his stomach. He thought by now he might've lost a few pounds, and he was starting to feel a little dizzy on a regular basis, but it was still nothing. He'd pull through this, just like he always had.

The next day, the Alchemist did not come down to see either of them.

Zoro found this a bit odd. As far as he could tell with his limited ability to gauge time down here, the man had come to question the both of them every day at some point or another. But the hours dragged by without a glimpse of the man or even the faint sound of footsteps on stairs. Even Perona noticed the absence of their visitor and commented on it loudly during one of their conversations (they'd taken to talking during the hours that they weren't asleep or being tortured, to alleviate boredom more than anything else). By what Zoro presumed was the end of the day, they'd still seen hide nor hair of their captor.

"I'm hungry," Perona complained. "Isn't he even going to bring us anything?"

"No," Zoro answered coldly. "Just shut up and go to sleep." And he took his own advice, allowing himself to pass out from exhaustion.

The next day was the same, with no visit from their attacker, and subsequently, no meals. Perona whined obnoxiously. Zoro found it irritating, but truth be told, he couldn't much blame her either; not when he'd dreamt about that one feast they'd had a few months ago. Fuck, at this point he'd _let_ the damn love-cook win a fight with him, as long as the bastard gave him a full dinner afterwards. Preferably in Luffy-sized portions.

On the third day, there was still no sign of the Alchemist, and Zoro finally decided to act. He didn't know when, or if, the man would be back. If they'd been abandoned to rot, there was no way he was going to let himself waste away in this forsaken cell. And if the man had left the island for a short while, on business, then there was no telling how much time they had left before he returned.

So he stood up—shakily, because his muscles were sore, and felt like water—and walked until he had his back to the bars of his cell. He was able to feel them with his hands this way, and inched along the length of the metal-bar wall by feel, until he found the place where the door hinged tightly into its frame.

If the door was ever going to have a weak spot, it was there. Zoro leaned back against the metal bars long enough to take a deep breath and gather his strength, and then turned. With a growl of defiance, he brought his shoulder to bear and slammed it into the metal door.

It rattled once, but didn't budge. Well, it was only the first hit. He reared back and slammed his shoulder once more into the door, and then again, and again.

"What are you _doing_ over there?" Perona yelped at him.

"Breaking out," was his curt reply, in between blows.

"You can't be serious. It sounds like you're trying to break the door down with all that racket!"

"I am."

"Are you _insane?_ You'll _never_ break through those doors!" Perona yelled, but he could practically hear the hopeful tone saturating her voice.

"Gotta try," he grunted, and slammed the door again. His shoulder was already starting to go numb, but not feeling anything at all was infinitely preferable to the pain that had been brought down on him in the past few days, and he kept at it with a will.

One hour, two, three passed, and Zoro kept doggedly at it, refusing to give up. He had to take frequent breaks; his legs couldn't support him for long, due to the combined efforts of the interrogation and a lack of meals. But as soon as he rested up enough he was back at it, again and again, slamming into the door right at the hinges over and over.

His efforts began to show some progress after the third hour. The hinges were strong, but they were starting to bend now, and the rattling was growing even more insistent. It wasn't without price. He could see more than feel the blood running down his shoulder now, and his skin looked raw from the constant impacts. But it would be well worth the lecture he got from Chopper when he finally managed to get the hell out of there.

The door gave, suddenly and unexpectedly, at the same time he heard a dull _crack_ coming from the general direction of his shoulder. He stumbled against the door in surprise, and felt a sudden sharp, shooting pain at the impact. He swore loudly—the crack had probably been his shoulder dislocating, if the new round of pain was any indication. But he'd gotten the door open, and that was more than worth it.

The door still stood awkwardly in place, bound by the sturdy padlock on its other end. But Zoro was able to get enough leverage to force the broken door open for the few seconds it took him to slip free of the cell. He stumbled, crashed to the ground in the small hallway just outside his prison, and breathed deeply, desperate to regain his strength.

He became aware a few minutes later that Perona was frantically hailing him, and managed to drag himself painfully to his feet and stagger forward.

"—was that crash, did you get out, Zoro, or did you manage to kill yourself—you _did_ get out!" The last was said excitedly as he stumbled into her line of vision, heading for the door. "Hey, where you going?"

"Out," he said curtly, tiredly.

"What...you can't leave me here!" She said, sounding indignant. And then softer, more panicked, "I'll help you get off the island, just like our deal before, I'll do anything, b-but don't leave me here with that nutcase. He'll kill me, I don't want to d-die!"

There was raw terror in her voice at the end, and that, more than anything else, made Zoro turn away from the door and stumble for her cell. He supposed he did sort of owe her; they had made a deal after all, and it would still be in effect until they both got off the island.

"Back up," he said curtly, after studying the door a moment. "And keep an eye on the stairs." And then he set to work, smashing his only working shoulder left into the cell door again and again once more.

It was much harder this time. He was exhausted, having burned most of his energy on his own escape, and found his body-checks weaker, his breaks more frequent. Perona tried to whisper encouragingly to him, but after a while he tuned even that out, focusing everything in his mind on that singular goal of getting the door open.

Even so, barely two hours had passed before Perona perked up her head and hissed suddenly, "Somebody's on the stairs, somebody's on the stairs! _Hide, quick!_"

Zoro knew it was useless; there wasn't a damn place to hide in this forsaken dungeon. He couldn't get into the other cells even if he tried, and the hallway had no other rooms branching off of it. So he jumped back from the door instead, and braced his tired legs for a charge as soon as the man was in sight.

He gave the fight everything he had. Most of his strength was gone, but a shot of battle-ready adrenaline gave him new strength, at least for a little while. He didn't have his swords, didn't even have his hands, but he charged, kicked, and even bit to the best of his ability.

It was still useless, and the Alchemist had put him down in under five minutes, sending him back into the pain-filled blackness Zoro had come to loathe so much.

* * *

When he woke again, still in a haze of pain, it was to discover he was in a completely new cell. He could tell because it was much darker, and what little he could see through the bars of his cell looked different than the things he'd been staring at for who knew how many days now.

The Alchemist was also there, regarding him with cool detachment. Zoro glared at him, but the gaze had hardly any malice to it by now; the swordsman felt more tired than angry.

"You are a man of surprises, just as I suspected," the man commented absently. "I left for only a few days to attend a summons from the Marine headquarters nearby, and return to not only find you out of your cell, but quite close to breaking your unusual companion free, too! And considering your current list of weaknesses, you did stunningly well in combat with me as well. It seems I was correct not to underestimate you."

"You did anyway," Zoro shot back.

"I underestimated your limits, certainly," the man agreed. "A failure on my part. It will not happen again. Starting today, you will no longer be receiving food rations."

Zoro felt an uncomfortable plummeting sensation somewhere in his chest, but did a commendable job of keeping his angry expression on his face.

"You are too strong by half, even now," the man continued. "And you've proven to be remarkably resistant with my questioning. Draining the life out of your body may remove some of that endurance, however, and it will certainly rob you of your strength. I don't think you'll be breaking doors down anymore when you can't even stand."

Much as he loathed agreeing with him, the man was right. Zoro had already burned through everything he'd had left to give with that escape attempt. He wouldn't be able to pull it again without eating, sleeping, and recovering his strength. If the man denied him even the one meal a day he'd had...

He didn't want to think about how weak he'd become.

But even if his strength was gone, his endurance wouldn't leave him, he told himself firmly. This man was dangerous—beyond dangerous, he knew now—and there was no way in hell Zoro would let him have the information he so desired. Armed with the knowledge of his nakama's strengths and weaknesses, the man was cold-blooded and calculating enough to capture, or even kill, every one of them. He would _not_ arm the man with that information, not if it drained him of everything he had and killed him.

So began the newest stage of their battle. The man continued his persistent questioning, and punished his captive physically as always when Zoro refused to answer. But his kicks felt much sharper now, more accurate, more excruciating, and Zoro knew it was a sign of his growing weakness. The pain was becoming constant, even when the Alchemist wasn't present, it took all of Zoro's discipline and willpower to force that pain to a barely tolerable level.

He was allowed to drink—hydration was vital to staying alive, the Alchemist had insisted cooly—but there was never any food now. Zoro could practically _feel_ himself deteriorating by the day. He knew he was losing weight at an alarming rate now, but almost thankfully couldn't see it. He didn't want to know how he'd react, if he was able to see his own hard-earned muscles disappearing on him slowly.

Worse, this new absence of food allowed the Alchemist to add a few other tortures to his arsenal. The man frequently set up a folding table outside of Zoro's cell now, and enjoyed extravagant meals right outside his prisoners' cells. The scents frequently wafted towards Zoro, as the swordsman well knew was intentional, and he would find his mouth involuntarily watering no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It didn't smell nearly as exceptional as most of the things the love-cook made, but Zoro wasn't about to turn up his nose at this stage, and the food always smelled positively _heavenly_ to him. The Alchemist always offered to share—if Zoro, in turn, would share information about his crew, answer the questions as asked.

It made him want to start screaming, but Zoro always refused, even though it was sometimes one of the hardest battles he had ever faced in his life to resist those aromas and do so.

Days had passed, maybe weeks by now, Zoro was sure. It was impossible to keep track of time in this hell-hole, and life had mostly blurred together into a mass of pain and hunger for him at this point. At first he had been sure he could ride out the Alchemist's refusal to feed him; after all, he'd agreed to go a full month without food once, months ago, and he was hundreds of times stronger now. But the more time passed, the harder it became to hold his silence.

Being conscious rapidly turned into a living nightmare. To counteract it, Zoro spent as much time as he could sleeping. It saved him in more ways than one. Asleep, the pain of his wounds seemed to pull back, fade into little more than a fuzzy indistinct memory. And it alleviated boredom, because when he was asleep, he dreamed.

Zoro had slept a lot while on the_ Merry_ and the _Sunny_, but could not honestly say he had ever really dreamed. Or if he did, he rarely remembered it. Now, his sleeping mind was alive, felt more real and energetic than his waking one. Sometimes his resting moments were filled with vivid nightmares, memories of vicious previous encounters, visions of each of his nakama dead in the most terrible and creative of ways. Those were horrific, and frequently ended with him waking to wild screaming, which he only discovered a few moments later was his own.

But increasingly more often, his dreams were about food. It was ridiculous how often they were about food. Zoro was no cook, never planned to be one, and only had about three meals in his repertoire from the days he wandered as a hunter. His mind didn't seem to care, though, and instead generated images of food, over and over. Usually memories; Zoro figured by now he'd probably dreamt about each and every damn meal he'd eaten since the damn crap-cook joined the crew. The feasts and parties were the most prominent, but it had gotten beyond stupid when he started dreaming about random breakfasts, lunches and dinners, and hell, even the snacks. His dreams of each meal were vivid, almost real, so much that he could smell the cooking meats or the baking sweets, would wake up on the cold stone floor of his cell to find himself drooling over whatever culinary memory had assailed him that nap.

Waking up was the worst part of all, and in those moments, those dreams were almost worse than the nightmares. Because waking up reinforced that the dreams weren't true, that he was still starving, so hungry that his stomach had ceased rumbling weeks ago and merely existed as a black void in his abdomen now.

Still, those dreams got him through the worst of the torture. Because they were vivid, and _felt_ real, and the dreams of the feasts and the casual Straw Hat dinners reminded him of his nakama, too. Every time the Alchemist tormented him with delicious-smelling foods, or landed another series of punches and kicks with brutal precision, Zoro merely had to summon the visions of those smiling, happy, satisfied faces to help himself hold his tongue for just a little longer.

He just had to hold out. He knew he likely wouldn't be rescued, knew it was unlikely that the others even knew where he was, much less how to find him. Knew he was likely to die here. But as long as he could take that information to the grave with him, he'd be more than satisfied.

He didn't know how long he'd been here, now, when the Alchemist came to stand in front of his cell one day. He did know that he could no longer sit up under his own power, that he spent most of his time laying on his side, trying to focus on suppressing the dull, aching throb of agony his life had since become. It was hard to see the Alchemist at first, because of that; the damn bastard was just barely standing outside his line of vision.

But he managed to roll his head, give the man an exhausted but still defiant glare, bared his teeth in warning. There wasn't much else that he could do, but he had to show this man that he was _not_ beaten yet, to keep his nakama alive.

"You are remarkably persistent," the man observed, as he had nearly every day, and slid Zoro's daily ration of water through the bars.

Zoro glared at him again, waited for the man to leave before trying to get his drink; he still loathed it when the man watched him try to lap it up like a dog. But the man was going nowhere today, merely crossed his arms and waited expectantly. And Zoro's body was screaming desperately at him for the drink, wailing that he needed it, wanted it, _had_ to have it, would kill for it, that delicious, cool, beautiful water—

Zoro found himself inching forward before he'd even realized it, scooting like a lopsided caterpillar towards the bowl. The Alchemist did not react at all, merely watched, and after another baleful look for good measure Zoro finally allowed himself to drink the bowl's contents, and watchers be damned. It tasted funny, as it always did, gritty and stale, but to Zoro it was better than the best sake he'd ever drank.

It hit him slowly at first: a dull, burning throb in his chest, only noticeable because it was slightly different than the other forms of pain he'd been dealing with up until now. He frowned, shifted uncomfortably to try and alleviate some of that pain, and did his best to ignore it.

It did not go away. In fact, it spread, and became stronger, more insistent. The dullness turned sharp; the burn became a furnace, and suddenly it was spreading like wildfire throughout his whole body. He was on fire, from the _inside_, felt like his organs were melting and his blood was boiling and his lungs were turning the air to burning steam and it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, _living_ hurt, was agony more real than almost anything he'd felt before—

His throat was burning too now, and he realized it was because he was screaming it hoarse. Sharp pain flew through his head, and he noticed, on the edge of his senses, it was because he was writhing on the stone floor, arching his back in supreme agony, slamming his head on the ground over and over and over again and oh hell, his body wasn't even obeying him anymore, was betraying him the inside, tearing him apart inside, burning him inside, melting him inside, let it stop, let it stop,_ let it stop—_

—And it was getting stronger now, the agony was rising in every part of him, building like a wave, cresting but not losing momentum, stronger, stronger, ripping through him, threatening to smolder him to ash from the inside, and he couldn't stop screaming even if he'd wanted to—

—And then it dulled suddenly, faded abruptly, all at once, leaving him with only the vicious throb of self-inflicted injuries and the cruel memory of the height of agony tingling all over his skin, everywhere inside him. He was able to focus on other things then; like the sharp spike of pain in his shoulder, or the fact that the Alchemist was calmly leaning through the bars, withdrawing a syringe from his skin.

"A most unfortunate reaction," the man said cooly, holding the now-empty syringe before his eyes. "You are quite lucky I happen to have the antidote on hand. Otherwise, that type of reaction tends to go on for hours." The man _tsked_, slipped the needle back inside his coat, collected the empty water bowl, and walked away, exiting the dungeon entirely.

Leaving Zoro laying on the filthy stone floor of his cell, involuntarily curling up on himself as best as he could at the horrifying memory of pure agony that still burned at his senses.

* * *

The next day the Alchemist questioned him like he usually did, and although Zoro was exhausted from not sleeping the night before after that fire inside him, and although he still shuddered at the memory of it combined with all his other hurts, he nevertheless continued to ignore the man's questions and kicks both. He felt half dead, or maybe just half asleep, suspended in a waking nightmare, unable to move under his own power, barely able to register anything in the world around him but unable to escape it. The kicks felt no resistance when they hit his body; his head lolled in response when he was struck, but his eyes continued to stare, and though Zoro could clearly see a cell wall in front of him he barely noticed it anymore.

He wondered, briefly, if he was getting close to dying. It was a bit hard to tell. His previous near-death experiences had been violent but sudden, not the drawn-out hell that he currently existed in. Dying of blood loss would be easy, and over fairly quickly. This was surreal but unquestioningly painful.

And still he kept his teeth clamped shut, and refused to talk. It was becoming harder to focus on anything now, but he repeated that one truth over and over in his mind._ Don't talk, don't talk, don't talk..._

The scent of meat assailed his senses, and for a brief moment he thought he'd slipped into a dream again, imagining one of the countless meat-related snacks Sanji had always cooked up for Luffy when asked to. His dream-self was getting to the point when he'd probably start assaulting dream-Luffy for his precious food any moment, and damn the consequences; he was fucking _hungry_, and if the shit-cook wasn't gonna share...

But he came to a moment later and realized he was still awake, still staring, and still within the confines of his disgusting stone cell, not on the imaginary decks of the _Sunny_ with his nakama around him. Blinking hazily, he realized suddenly that there was a bowl in front of his eyes, where the scent was coming from, and he could just barely make out one strip of dried meat sticking over the edge of it.

"Wha..." he tried, hazily, disbelievingly. This couldn't be real. It had to be his mind fucking with him again. Was he really so desperate he was dreaming about those rancid, barely eatable rations now?

The Alchemist crouched down before him, and said calmly, "Do you know what day it is today, Roronoa Zoro?"

Zoro didn't answer. Couldn't bring himself to if he wanted to. He had no idea, and wasn't about to let the man know it.

But the Alchemist seemed to know it anyway, and answered his own question. "One month ago today, Roronoa Zoro, you nearly escaped my dungeon for the second time. I commend you most highly. You are the most difficult man I have ever been forced to break."

Zoro managed to summon enough anger to glare at him for a few moments, but even that little exertion cost him, and the expression melted away to exhaustion a moment later.

"It has also been one month since you've eaten," the man continued. "I think one month is a suitable punishment, Roronoa Zoro. I do not think you will be breaking free of the confines of this cell any more, and I certainly will not have you die of starvation before you divulge your crew's secrets to me." The man gestured to the food bowl, and finished with, "Take your rewards. I am not unreasonable."

Zoro watched him for a long time, but the Alchemist's expression was unreadable. It was a logical conclusion, and would be like him, based on what he'd seen of the man. He wanted answers. Zoro couldn't give those answers dead, and that was where he was heading.

He shouldn't eat it.

He knew he shouldn't. Doing so would only be helping the man, prolonging his existence—and thus, the chance that he might talk—even longer. Zoro wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his silence; death, at this rate, might be the preferable option.

But it was food. It was _food_. He'd dreamed about it every day, several times a day, for weeks. _Weeks_. Those few strips of meat were nothing compared to the banquets the love-cook set out on a regular basis, but it was _food,_ and he needed it, and he was so, so fucking hungry...

His discipline was slipping. His instinct, his body, needed that food, cried out for it desperately, and suddenly a raw, primal survival instinct reared within him, tore his focus from him, seized control before he could so much as think about counteracting it. He was so wasted away he could barely lift his head by now, and moving hurt badly, but that primal instinct clawed together his remaining strength and forced it into his shaking, screaming muscles. He lifted his head, snatched one of the short strips of meat in his teeth, and began chewing on it ravenously.

Eating hurt, just like every other movement hurt, but he didn't care by this point. It was difficult to chew those hard strips of meat, but it was a challenge, a pain that he relished, enjoyed every second of. _Food_. Fuck, but it was so good. So, so, so blissfully, unquestionably amazing. He swallowed the first piece, barely, attacked the second, didn't care that the Alchemist was watching his every move intently. Didn't even notice. The only thing he could focus on now was his first dinner in weeks.

It took him a second to register the burning sensation in his chest again, and by the time he recognized it with a deepening sense of dread it was too late. He spat the last of the strips of meat back out, tried to cough, force himself to throw up, but his body rebelled against him, stubbornly refused to surrender the first meal he'd had in thirty days.

And then the fire spread outward again, and all he could do was start screaming.

It was worse, this time, the burn hotter, the tearing more precise, finer, ripping into every single miniscule part of his body with violent accuracy, and he was burning in the deepest, hottest pits of Hell with no signs of relent, no remorse, no hope of dying. This time, a distant, barely detached part of his mind thought it comparable to Kuma's bubble of pain, the way it had all come upon him all at once, unrelenting, vicious, murderous, but in a way this was worse. There he at least had signs of the danger, could feel his muscles ripping open, the blood spraying, had the reassurance that it was like any other attack, assaulting him from the outside, and it was merely a battle that had to be won. This fire provided none of those reassuring truths. His body was attacking him from the inside, and there was nothing to fight, no measure of the danger on unblemished skin other than the wounds he caused himself. It was a betrayal, a lack of control over himself, a cruel assault, where Zoro had_ never_ lacked control before in his life. It was agonizing, it was unrelenting, and worst of all, it was frightening.

And it wasn't stopping.

It continued, on and on, and Zoro didn't know if he'd been suffering for five minutes or five days, knew only that very suddenly he was desperate for that unrelenting, violent betrayal to end. He writhed in agony, felt his head smashing against the ground again, his feet ineffectually kicking, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled to gain some semblance of control, but his body's rebellion was unrelenting and did not afford him that chance.

"It is incredibly effective," he heard a voice say, over the screaming he could hear both from his mouth and in his mind. "A fireblood serum I created some time ago. Alchemy can be a very potent weapon, you see."

Zoro gasped in between his screams, managed to force his smashing head to twist towards the man, forced his twitching, sporadic gaze at him. The man wasn't smiling, wasn't smirking, didn't appear to take pleasure from this at all, was watching with cold patience.

"I can stop it," he added, once he realized he'd caught Zoro's eye, and held up a loaded syringe in one hand. "This is the same antidote I gave you yesterday. You know it will stop the pain, since I proved it to you." He cocked his head calmly, and finished, "You also know what you need to do to earn it."

The internal agony reached new heights, and Zoro screamed again, bucking spasmodically as he tried to deal with this latest assault on his senses. Pain had been such a part of his life by now he thought he was used to it, but this was worse, hundreds of times worse, _thousands_ of times worse, he couldn't handle it, he had to stop it, anything to stop it, anything to scrub the fire from his veins—

He opened his mouth, hoped he stopped screaming long enough to—

_DON'T TALK!_ came the mental assault from the farthest, darkest depths of his own mind, and he snapped his mouth shut again automatically, curled up as tightly as he could and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to counteract the pain. _Don't talk, don't talk, don't talk, donttalkdonttalk..._

"_D-don't...talk.._." he heard himself rasping out loud, barely, through clenched teeth, before another scream ripped itself from his aching throat.

The man seemed unperturbed that Zoro was resisting even now, and merely crouched and waited. Zoro tried to ignore him, was desperate to ignore him, but the flames were getting worse, were in his mind now, burning away the memories of his nakama he'd tried to summon to shield himself, setting his determination and his resolve up in flames, and he had to stop it before it ripped him apart, destroyed his mind _and_ his body—

"Where are they," the Alchemist asked, very slowly and clearly.

_Don't talk!_ His mind screamed at him again, but it felt fainter now, tired, desperate, and he couldn't even remember why he wasn't supposed to talk anymore. His whole existence was pain, and wanting it to stop. Nothing existed outside of that, nothing, nothing, _nothing..._

"Where are they," the man repeated again.

And to his horror, Zoro found himself choking back a scream, forming it into words, and shrieking, "Don't know, dunno, I don't..."

"Resisting isn't going to stop the pain, Roronoa," the man answered him cooly. "Where are they?"

"Dunno...dunno...swear it," Zoro half gasped, half screamed, and a part of his mind was sobbing in the far corner because he _knew_, he _knew_ he'd done something unspeakable, something horrifically wrong, but he couldn't tell what it was, didn't care what it was, was only desperate that the man believe him, because it was truth, he didn't know, didn't know...

The man watched him for a few moments, seemed to be carefully considering. Then, "I do believe you're telling the truth, Roronoa," he answered with a nod. "Very well. It's a start. That is enough for the day, and I'll keep my word."

He brandished the syringe, and it stung when he plunged it into Zoro's shoulder, but oh God it was worth it, every fucking second of that shooting pain, because the rest was dying down and suddenly the flames were going away, and he could feel and see and think again and that indescribable agony was _gone_, just gone...

"We will speak again tomorrow, Roronoa Zoro," the Alchemist told him calmly. He left the cell and departed, and Zoro shuddered as he breathed again, tried to come to terms with himself, understand what had just happened.

What had just happened.

He'd broken. He'd finally broken, betrayed his nakama for the first time.

Perona was calling for him weakly from two cells down, and sounded frantic, concerned, asking how he was, but he barely heard it. He'd betrayed his nakama. He'd betrayed his nakama. It ran like a litany through his mind, over and over and over, and he was unable to erase it from his mind. As information went it wasn't terribly damaging, what he'd given away, but...

He'd betrayed his nakama.

He'd been broken.

Unacceptable.

He didn't sleep that night either, though his body begged for it, and his mind was so tired he could barely focus anymore, and he needed it desperately, but it was a reward he wouldn't award himself. The Alchemist had said he could break him, and he'd done it.

But he couldn't allow it to happen again.

* * *

The next day, when the Alchemist came and brought him his food and water rations, Zoro refused to eat it.

He'd put two and two together easily enough. The man had put the fire-whatever into his water the first day, and his food the second. He was probably used to his victims being so desperate for nourishment that they'd eat anyway, and risk the serum, but he didn't know who he was dealing with here. It took every _scrap_ of willpower that Zoro possessed left to refuse to eat, and even when he rolled over and faced away from those tantalizing bowls the smell of it stung at his nostrils, enticed him violently. But he couldn't eat it, not if he wanted to keep that burning pain out of his body, and if he had to willingly starve himself to do so...

Well then fuck it. He would.

Because he knew, he _knew_, that if that burning sensation attacked him again, he'd answer any question the Alchemist asked him. That had been proven yesterday, when Zoro had talked. Zoro could hold out for a little while against it, but it was too powerful, the feelings it created to desperate, to primal, too wildly devoted to self-survival and little else.

There were things more important than self-survival. He had principles he needed to stick to. Friends he had to protect. He'd never forgive himself if he betrayed them any further than he already had. So he refused to eat, and when it became too much to try and hold out, he merely had to summon the memories of that burning fury to kill his desperate appetite and hold it at bay.

The Alchemist put up with it for about three days. By then, Zoro was becoming rather hazy on what was real and what wasn't; the dream world and the real one were starting to blend with frightening consistency. He could have sworn he'd seen each of his nakama in the cell at some point, watching him, talking to him, mocking him, challenging him. He'd seen old enemies and friends alike too, wandering through the bars, pacing the cell, laughing at how weak he was, attacking him while he was down. He swore he could feel the punches and the kicks, the bite of steel, the fingers around his throat, and while he was_ just_ enough aware to know he was going crazy, he didn't find the thought important enough to keep up with.

So when he felt himself rolled over, hoisted up, his head flopped forward, he figured it was just another imaginary attack. But the voice lecturing him about the importance of hydration was all too real, and the flask at his lips, filled the same tainted water from before, was too.

He tried to resist, wrench his head away, but the Alchemist's grip was all too firm, and he couldn't spit the contents of that flask out. He gasped in frustration, or maybe it was dry crying; he didn't have any liquid left in him for actual tears, but he was certainly furious with his own failure by that point.

The fire came again moments later, tearing him apart with cruel accuracy from the inside, and this time it frightened him badly. Not because of the pain, not because of the possibility of death. No, because he knew he was too weak to resist, knew he was about to betray his nakama again, and was completely and utterly helpless to stop it.

The man waited long enough for the burning, consuming sensations to fill him, and then began asking the questions. Today's queries were specifically about finding out which member of the crew was the strongest, digging information about them free from Zoro's breaking mind. He held out marginally longer than he had last time, he thought, maybe—it was hard to tell when his very being had been set upon by unquenchable fire, when his whole existence was pure, untainted _pain._

But in the end he gave it all away, everything. That Luffy was the strongest member of the crew; that he was a rubber-man, and his attacks were all based around that elastic ability. That Luffy had two power-up attacks; he described Gear Second and Gear Third with excruciating detail at the Alchemist's persistence, dragged every scrap about either free from his begging mind in the hopes that it would be enough to satisfy the man and purchase his relief. It wasn't, and Zoro was soon, at the man's insistence, describing each and every other one of Luffy's attacks in as much detail as he could manage when it was all he could do to speak, to keep from screaming. That Luffy sometimes had trouble with Logia fruit users in a fight; that if he was hungry enough, his combat ability dropped considerably too. That Luffy was unforgiving of anyone who messed with his nakama, but that same fury could make him jump into situations without thinking, could be exploited.

He listed it all, everything. When the Alchemist finally finished taking his notes and nodded, finally gave him his blissful relief in the form of that loaded syringe, he was a broken, exhausted, furious excuse for a crew mate, body wracked with something that was a mixture of screams, sobs, and breathless panting.

The next day had been exactly the same. The man had force-fed him the fireblood serum, mixed once again with water, and questioned him once again in the height of agony. This time he had asked about the next strongest. He had truthfully reported himself in the throes of vivid, burning pain, but the man seemed uninterested, asked him to move onto the third strongest. And once again, he divulged everything, this time about Sanji. Everything he knew about his rival's _Red Leg_ style; though he didn't know most of the names, he'd seen them enough to know what they were capable of. His ultimate attack, when he set his leg on fire; the fact that he'd observed in their mock battles that Sanji's left sided defense was worse than his right; the fact that the man would never so much as _touch_ a weapon in combat to save his own damn skin; that he couldn't fight women; that he could kick through stone. On and on, and when he was finished he felt just as emotionally drained, and just as ashamed of himself as before. That was the second nakama that he'd as good as backstabbed; he was a disgusting, filthy traitor...

On and on, day after day, without end. Every day the man returned, forced that vile fireblood serum into him, and every day he picked a new crewmate for Zoro to betray, to drag everything he'd ever known, including some things he hadn't even _known_ he'd known, free from his wretched mind. How Usopp was incredibly easy to intimidate; how Nami's ClimaTact was potentially deadly, but her physical endurance in battle was limited; how Robin's _hana-hana_ powers were powerful, but she herself could be damaged by cutting any one of her extra limbs; how Brook's swordplay was above average, but his limbs were incredibly brittle, easy to break; how Franky's greatest weak point was his back, where he had no enhancements.

On and on, and with each admission dragged free from his screaming body Zoro felt that much dirtier, that much more worthless. He had been on the ship to protect the crew. Luffy brought him on as a swordsman; swordsmen were fighters; the fighters were supposed to protect the weaker members of the crew. He was damning them all here, because he was too weak to suffer through this pain silently, too weak to fight the man off every time that liquid was forced into his mouth.

Too weak to die.

When the Alchemist brought him to Chopper, Zoro put up the most resistance he had yet. It was hardly anything by this point, a fickle, weak attempt to divert fate, but he fought with every ounce of will he had left in his broken body to keep silent for that questioning. Chopper had been an unofficial charge of his for months now; the little reindeer looked up to him, and required Zoro's protection on a number of levels so desperately. It had nearly killed him to hold his silence, and he'd felt his heart beating painfully, racing under the stress of so much agony on such a weakened body.

_Let it burst,_ a tiny part of his mind, the part that sobbed every time he gave something new away, begged through the flames and the screaming. _Let it burst and we can go to hell and not betray them anymore..._

He hadn't been so lucky. The Alchemist had injected him with something else that calmed his heart, and a third liquid that had brought about sudden pleasurable senses instead; feelings of euphoria, satisfaction, triumph, mixed with physical ecstasy that had drawn his scrabbling, begging-for-death mind out of hiding. At the peak of that pleasure the Fireblood serum kicked in again, and the abrupt switch from pleasure to sheer, undiluted agony had sent him screaming anew, had him outright begging for the pain to stop. That pain had been the worst of all. He'd given away everything about Chopper right then, too, and didn't try to hold anything else back ever again.

On and on it went, day in and day out, and Zoro lost track of time, of any other form of measurement. When the man was finished interrogating him about his nakama (_he didn't deserve to call himself their nakama anymore, he was a fucking dirty traitor, damn it _) the man moved on to the ship, asking for specs about the Sunny, where the ship could be. If they had any other allies. What their goals were. Zoro told him all of it, didn't bother to resist after the interrogation on Chopper. There was no point to it anymore. The man had broken him, had a hundred other ways to snap his mind and his body in two to drag the information that he wanted free, was patient enough to employ every single one of them. There was nothing he could do to resist. Absolutely nothing.

On it went, and Zoro existed in a state of pure agony, pure self-loathing. The fiery pain did not stop after a while. It existed in his half awake moments, in his deepest nightmares. Part of him thought he deserved it, by then; he knew he'd done something terrible, hated himself for it, even if was getting harder and harder to remember what he'd done, why he deserved such agony. Only knew it was the truth, that he deserved to burn.

He withdrew into his ravaged mind more and more, paid attention to the physical world less and less. He couldn't move anymore at all, couldn't even lift his head, had to be fed every time a new bout of interrogation began. Was starting to forget who he was; his body was on autopilot now, and that desperate, primal survival instinct was in command, forcing his heart to keep beating, his lungs to keep breathing, his body to keep stumbling forward one more day. His mind stopped caring. He didn't have a name anymore, other, perhaps, than _fucking traitor_; couldn't even remember why he had earned that name. Couldn't remember whatever it was the man before him asked about, anymore. The pain grew all the hotter when he asked questions, and it hurt, so bad it hurt, and he would answer anything just to make it stop, but he didn't know the answers anymore, didn't know the people the man asked about or the things the man wanted to know, and after a while the voice even stopped asking him things, left him alone in the dark with his agony and his loathing. He saw things, then, in the dark; people in the cell that weren't there, because he knew they were dead, because he remembered he'd killed them all.

He didn't remember why he'd ever bothered to try and resist that fiery pain. Knew at one point, something had been important to him, important enough to try and protect with his own life, his own suffering. But nothing was more important than just hanging onto life now, digging in, hoping food would come even if he knew he was too weak to eat it anymore, too in pain, and too undeserving.

He waited in the darkness with his own self-loathing, his own desperation, his own ravening hunger, alone. Waiting for the voice to speak to him, to give him orders, to obey because the pain was less that way. Or waiting to be struck down for the terrible thing that his mind whispered he had committed, but couldn't even remember doing anymore.

He wasn't sure what he preferred at this point. Life or death, all of it brought the same despairing end.

* * *

Don't kill me, kill the Alchemist. Gogo!

Irony of ironies, one of the many songs I repeatedly listened to while writing this was one known as _Kuina_, which is completely unrelated to _One Piece_ whatsoever. It's actually on my playlist of creepy songs...

I wonder how Sanji will react to all of this, hrrrm?

You guys know the drill. Thoughtful reviews, compliments and critiques, etc etc...

~VelkynKarma


	12. Finding the Pieces

**Mindshattered**

Part twelve of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Note:** So may I take this opportunity to say _holy crap guys_. This is my most popular fanfiction _ever_ in pretty much _every_ way. It is top rank amongst my stories in terms of hits, reviews, faves, and watches. Wow, guys. Wow. This wouldn't be happening without you all, so many thanks :)

**Business:** I've gotten a suggestion that I up the rating for this fic, after the last chapter. I'd like to hear everyone else's opinion on the matter, because as the writer _my_ opinion is extraordinarily biased. For the most part this fic seems to have a general T rating (to me), with the exceptions of chapters 1 and 11, which are quite gruesome. Should I up the overall fic rating, or should I just heavily stress in those two chapters that they're M level?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, One Piece or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"The truth is rarely pure, and never simple."

~Algernon, _The Importance of Being Earnest_

* * *

When Zoro finally finished, Sanji didn't even bother to disguise his horror anymore. He could have kicked himself for it. The last thing the man wanted now was _pity_, he knew, but...God. _God_. What that bastard had _done_ to him...

Though a lot of things made sense, suddenly. Why Zoro had thought he was being attacked, when they'd first found him in the cell. Why he'd panicked every time Sanji tried to feed him. Why he was still wracked with shame every time he gave in to his desperate desire for food, for survival. Why he had been constantly trying to distance himself from the crew. It all made sense with such a sudden, stark clarity that Sanji was furious with himself for not putting it together sooner.

Zoro was silent for a moment, and then said hoarsely, "That's why I've been telling you to put me off the ship, curlybrow. He's not done with me."

Sanji was appalled. "And you honestly think we'd throw you back to that sadistic bastard?" he nearly shrieked. "Fuck, Zoro, I knew you were stupid, but this is ridiculous. No way are we putting you out there on your own now."

"_Listen_, curlybrow," Zoro hissed in response, and tried to glare at him. It was a terrible attempt at anger; he looked so drained, so _empty_ after revealing all that, that even Chopper would have looked scarier at that moment. "You're not getting it. Even if I didn't deserve to get thrown back to him—which is a lie—_he's going to keep chasing me_. You don't know him like I do, not even now. He's persistent. He's going to keep chasing me. If I'm _anywhere_ near the rest of you..."

"Then we'll kick his ass," Sanji said with a scowl.

"_No_, then he'll _kill_ you," Zoro snapped. "Everything I know about you, about_ all _of you, that he asked about, he knows. He knows all your abilities, your strengths, your weaknesses. If he tracks me and finds the rest of you, you'll all die. He's too fucking strong. I've already made the chance that you could all be murdered possible. I won't be responsible for your guaranteed deaths."

Sanji wanted to argue, but Zoro had made a startlingly thorough list of his combat abilities while telling the story, and his summary of the cook's strengths and weaknesses had hit remarkably close to home as well. And Sanji still didn't know everything his opponent was capable of, other than temporarily enhancing the body in who only knew how many ways with his alchemic knowledge. It would be a difficult fight; it could even be impossible. Zoro was, once again in his new, twisted way, trying to look out for them all. Getting rid of himself didn't erase the fact that this Alchemist knew almost everything about him, but it _did_ lower the chances that they'd run into him, and that meant a higher chance at survival.

If Zoro could get off the _Sunny_, at least...which explained why he'd tried to convince all of them to put him off. Well, except Luffy, that was, but Luffy had already been perceptive enough to know something was wrong to begin with without Zoro asking him for permission to be tossed off-ship...

It clicked suddenly, and Sanji's jaw dropped in surprise. "You figured Luffy'd pick up on what happened. That's why you tried to get me and Nami-san and the rest to talk to him for you. And why you tried to act normal around him when you refused to talk to the rest of us."

Zoro visibly flinched and looked away. "If he knew how I betrayed you all—"

"He'd agree with me that it wasn't your damn fault," Sanji said firmly. Zoro glared at him, but the expression was full of self-loathing and, hell, there was genuine _fear_ there now too.

"I gave everything away about all of you. I couldn't protect any of you—"

"Because you were being _tortured,_ Zoro. Fuck, any of the rest of us would have broken too. You lasted over a month in some of the shittiest conditions I've ever heard of without breaking, and even after that you made him fight for every scrap he got out of you. None of us could ask for any less."

"He still got it, in the end," Zoro snarled viciously. "I failed. I was weak. I couldn't stop myself from giving into that hunger and that damned serum...I don't deserve a place on this ship anymore. Luffy has no use for weaklings and traitors in his crew. But I can at least still try to keep you all alive by getting the hell out of here, so that's what I'm gonna do."

"You _idiot_," Sanji snarled, and he'd jumped to his feet before he could stop himself, slammed his hand down on the desk. "What, are you too proud to admit that Roronoa-freaking-Zoro is allowed to have a little weakness? You think the rest of us would have done any better, if Kuma sent us to that island instead?"

Zoro gave him a disgusted look, and said coldly, "You'd last, I'm sure. You'd never say a damn word about your precious _Nami-swan_."

"Did you even listen to me yesterday?" Sanji shot back. "I've already been through starvation once. It's not something I ever want to repeat. Hell, I still have nightmares about it, I won't deny that, and that was _years_ ago. You think I'd have made it again? I'd have cracked as soon as he told me he was cutting off my rations." He didn't know why he was arguing to convince Zoro he was the weaker one, for once, only knew that he had to prove to the swordsman that there was no fault here.

Zoro's face was disbelieving though, clearly told Sanji he thought the cook was lying. Zoro said nothing to argue with him however, merely stated instead, "Luffy would have made it."

"That's not an argument. First of all, Luffy is practically _inhuman_ to begin with. And second, our _most excellent_ captain can barely go ten minutes without demanding I make him a snack. He wouldn't last a day without a meal, let alone a month."

Zoro sighed, tipped his head back against the pillows piled at his back, and hissed flatly, "Get lost, love-cook."

"I'm not done talking to you—"

"I'm tired," Zoro said coldly. "And it'll take a while to fall asleep as it is, without you pestering me."

Sanji's anger vanished abruptly as he realized what that was supposed to mean. Zoro was practically admitting that he was about to have nightmares, and for a few moments Sanji felt guilty for dredging all this up. But it had to be done, and horrifying as the information was, Sanji was still glad he knew what was going on now.

He briefly considered offering to find some sort of sleeping draught from one of Chopper's medicine cabinets, but froze when he considered the implications of that. Zoro had never been fond of taking medicines to begin with, and after everything he'd just revealed Sanji doubted he would take lightly to being dosed, either. Any other day he might've considered slipping a sleeping draught into his food anyway—the marimo obviously desperately needed the rest—but so soon after that harrowing story, it wouldn't be viewed as anything short of betrayal. Sanji wouldn't risk it.

So instead he merely set to shoving the cabinet and bookcase out of the way, and muttered as he did so, "Fine. Go to sleep, but I'm leaving the door open a crack. Call us if you need anything."

"It doesn't leave this room, curlybrow," Zoro repeated again.

Sanji paused at that, regarded the swordsman critically. "Yeah," he said quietly, after a minute. "I won't tell them the details. I promised. You can trust me." And then, more firmly, "It's not your fault, Zoro. Nobody here'd blame you," and darted out the door before Zoro could retort.

Outside he took a deep breath, suddenly wholly aware of how confining the room had felt for the duration of that story. It was like the infirmary itself had turned into a cell, and he had escaped to the outside, where he was free again.

But not unburdened by that terrible reality. Suddenly desperate for a smoke, Sanji trotted over to one of the railings, pulled out his cigarette pack, and lit up. He burned through three in rapid succession, and the things Zoro had shared whirled around in his mind over and over again, like they were stuck on repeat.

"Your hand is shaking, Sanji-kun," came a voice to his right, and he jumped in surprise. Nami-san grabbed his arm hastily to steady him before he went overboard, and frowned at him when he'd settled again. "You didn't even notice me."

"M-my apologies, Nami-san," he said immediately, automatically, and drew the cigarette from his mouth long enough to exhale. She was right, his hands _were_ shaking, sending the trails of smoke from the cigarette jittering all over the place.

She was still frowning at him. "Something has to be wrong," she said. "Brook said you traded off with him to give Zoro a meal, but when he went back to take over afterwards the door was blocked shut. And you didn't show up to make lunch—"

_"What?"_ Stunned, he glanced around hastily, searching for a clock somewhere. "What time is it? I'm so sorry, Nami-san, I lost track of time. I can make lunch now if you like, or start an early dinner, I wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting—"

"It's _fine_, Sanji-kun," she said, raising her hands placatingly. "It's only three in the afternoon. When Luffy heard where you were he told us to leave you alone, said you were doing something important. I hope you don't mind, I made a quick lunch instead. Just a few sandwiches, but I know you hate people messing around in the galley."

"It's fine, Nami-san," he said, tried to force some of his usual cheer into his voice and only half succeeded. "If it's you, I'm more than happy to learn my accommodations were of use to you!"

She waved that away absently, fixed him with a firm look. "You've been in there for hours, Sanji-kun, and now you look like an absolute wreck, if you don't mind me saying so. What the hell happened in there?"

"He was fixing Zoro," came a voice from above, and seconds later Luffy dropped down from the mast, absorbing the impact in his rubber legs. He bounced, placed a securing hand on his hat, and fixed Sanji with a firm look. "Right? How'd it go?"

Sanji hesitated. This was going to be tricky. The entire crew was obviously worried about Zoro, and wanted to know what was wrong with him so they could help. Sanji _knew_, almost without a doubt, that not a single one of them would fault Zoro for his so-called betrayal if they heard his story. But at the same time, the man had trusted him with a private and deeply violent moment of his life, and Sanji wasn't about to break that trust either.

So he finally shook his head, placed the cigarette back in his mouth, and sighed. "He's not 'fixed,' as you put it," he said glumly. "But I know what's wrong now, at least."

"You do? Well? What's wrong? Maybe we can help," Nami-san said triumphantly. "Good job, Sanji-kun!" And Luffy was looking at him expectantly now, hopefully, the concern for his crew mate glaringly obvious on his face.

Which was why he grimaced when he spoke again. "You trust me, right?"

Nami-san gave him a puzzled look, but nodded. Luffy's look was more serious, and he cocked his head quizzically.

"You trust me, Luffy," he repeated more insistently. "Right?"

"Yeah," the captain finally agreed, nodding. "I trust you, Sanji."

"Then I can't tell you what's wrong with him."

Nami-san's expression melted into one of stunned surprise, and then anger. Her fist drew back, and Sanji honestly would have been more than willing to allow her to deck him. Pulling a stunt like that, he certainly deserved it.

But Luffy intervened, grabbed her arm quietly, and said softly, "Okay. You made a promise, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Sanji agreed, and was thankful his usually-stupid captain got it.

"Can you fix Zoro?"

"Maybe," Sanji said slowly. "But...it won't go fast. It's...it's complicated."

Nami-san looked furious (rightly so), and shouted in frustration, "And you can't tell us _anything?_ How are we supposed to be of any help at all?"

Sanji's own frustration had to be evident on his face now, because she abruptly stopped shouting, stared at him in confusion. "I'll let you know," was all he said instead, and then hurriedly, "There is some other stuff though. The guy that did this to him..."

Luffy's eyes went from knowing to furious in a heartbeat, and the shadow that drew across his face from his lowered hat made him look positively demonic. "You know who it is? Where he is?"

"Don't know where," Sanji said grimly. "I have a feeling he's following us, though. To...reclaim his bounty, as it were."

Luffy's eyes narrowed even more dangerously, and he growled, "Then we'll drop anchor and wait for him. I'll kick his ass for making Zoro sick like this," and whether or not that 'sick' referred to his first mate's mental or physical health was hard to say. He cracked his knuckles threateningly at the end.

But Sanji shook his head firmly, and said forcefully, "No. Not yet. The plan hasn't changed yet."

"But this bastard hurt Zoro—"

"And will again, if we don't get him better," Sanji snapped. "This guy...he sounds _good_, Luffy. Real strong. And he'll probably go after Zoro again, because he was after Zoro's bounty first. Zoro's still really bad off, Luffy, if this guy attacks him again he's going to die." It was brutal, and frank, but it was the only way to get that through Luffy's head.

The captain hesitated, once again caught between his nakama's health and the desire to exact vengeance to protect them all.

Sanji saw this, pressed on more ruthlessly. "Plus," he said, and hesitated a moment, considering how to word it without breaking Zoro's confidence. Both Nami-san and Luffy gave him quizzical looks, and after a moment he continued, "This guy...he's done his research. You saw all the bounty posters he had. He already knew all about Zoro's abilities, that's how he caught him to begin with." Which wasn't a total lie; he _had_ known how to counteract Zoro's swordsmanship with steel skin. "And he's done the research on us, too. He knows all our moves, might be able to counter us."

Luffy's eyes narrowed again. "I'm not going to just let him get away with hurting _anyone_ on my crew," he said sharply, with no room for debate.

Sanji wasn't going to let it stand either, though, and he had a plan to get around that. "Right. I agree. But we're only at half strength now. Zoro can't fight, and we're still missing Robin-chan, and Franky and Chopper. It'd be better if we met up with them all back at Sabaody first, got the whole crew together before we fight this guy. He knows everything about us, but eight on one is still pretty shitty odds for him."

Nami-san was nodding in agreement now, and a part of his heart fluttered at her obvious approval, but Luffy still looked unconvinced.

"C'mon, Luffy," he tried one last time. "Zoro's just as much a part of this crew as anyone else. I'm sure if Robin-chan, Franky and Chopper knew what had happened to him, they'd want to get back at this bastard, too. Marimo's protected all of them at least once. Hell, he's practically assigned himself as Chopper's guardian angel. I'm sure they'd all want to return the favor."

It was the sort of poetic, friendship-driven justice that Luffy thrived on, and though he looked a little put out that the fight wouldn't be happening right away, he finally nodded in agreement. "Okay. We'll get back to Sabaody first and wait for the others. Chopper'll get Zoro fixed up, and then we'll _all_ kick this guy's ass for hurting our nakama!"

The other two nodded in agreement. Luffy seemed pleased now that they had some sort of resolution, and the grin was back on his face in bare moments. He started to wander away, to where Usopp was fishing on the other side of the ship in blissful ignorance of all the shit going on right now, when Sanji stopped him with a quick call. "Luffy!"

The captain turned, puzzled, and Sanji hesitated. What he was about to say could be considered a huge breach of privacy, shattering the deal he'd made with Zoro in one shot. It could give one hint too many, and while Luffy was usually dumber than nails he's always been oddly perceptive as far as his crew was concerned.

But he had to say it, had to lay the groundwork, because he was the _only_ one who knew the depth of Zoro's current problem, and he had to do something about it. So he took a deep pull on his cigarette, which had burned down to nearly a stub by now, exhaled, and spoke again.

"Luffy. He didn't do anything wrong." And at Luffy's puzzled look, he added, "Zoro didn't."

Luffy stared at him for a long, long time, and Sanji had the uncomfortable feeling that maybe the captain was reading his mind, digging through his recent memory to uncover everything he'd heard Zoro say. But after a moment the captain smiled again, said cheerfully, "I believe you," and wandered off in Usopp's direction once more.

Nami-san was giving him a funny look, and he _knew_ she was perceptive, so he shook his head quickly and asked her, "Nami-san...how long until we reach Sabaody?"

She glanced at the sky and considered. "The winds are shifting again," she observed after a moment. "Probably not more than three days, now."

"Three days can't pass fast enough," he said with a tired sigh, and she nodded grimly in agreement.

* * *

Later that night, as Sanji made an elaborate dinner to make up for his lack of lunch preparations earlier, Sanji thought carefully about everything Zoro had shared with him.

He'd been stewing over it for most of the day, with Zoro's descriptions rotating through his head over and over. But that was mostly dealing with the shock, the horror of what he had just heard, of what had happened to their nakama after he'd been separated from them.

He still felt that shock and that horror now, but it had dulled, allowing him to think about the whole scenario more clearly, come to terms with it himself. It revealed a number of his own personal thoughts, none of them pleasant.

First there had been guilt. That the crew hadn't been able to stop Kuma before he sent their friend vanishing to that God-forsaken island, set him up for two months of pure hell. And he'd thought _he_ had it bad, being stuck with okama until he'd finally managed to get away...it had been embarrassing, but it didn't even compare.

Of course, there was nothing they _could_ have done to defend Zoro in that fight. None of them had expected him to be vanished; he'd been the first, and none of them even knew Kuma _had _that power. Nor would they have been able to fight Kuma off. Zoro had physically been the most wounded, at that point, but all of them had been exhausted after their fight with PX-4. No matter how Sanji turned that fight over in his mind, with their level of strength at the time the same result was always inevitable.

It didn't make him feel any less guilty, though. As far as he knew, everyone else had managed to learn something on the islands they'd been sent to despite the inconvenience, increasing their combative ability or their knowledge of the Grand Line. Zoro had been sent to die a long, suffering death, and they hadn't known in time, hadn't been able to rescue him before he'd been broken.

It was worse for Sanji, too, because the guilt he'd first felt when they'd originally found Zoro was still there, only magnified a hundred times now that he knew what the swordsman went through. As the ship's cook, he was responsible for keeping each and every one of his nakama fed. He hadn't been able to fulfill that duty for Zoro, and the man had not only wasted away due to malnutrition, but had actually started to believe—if his delirious ending rants were any indication—that _Sanji_, of all people, would intentionally withhold food from him! It was an insult to his principles as a cook, but considering Zoro's situation, it rapidly transformed from an insult into something shameful. Because he really couldn't blame the man for thinking it, not in the starved delusions of a man under physical conditions so terrible it would break anyone.

And the taunting and the trickery with food. Sanji's eyes narrowed with hatred as he considered all those parts of Zoro's tale again, felt his blood boiling at the mere thought of it. Food was _sacred_. It wasn't to be used for something as brutal as that. You didn't withhold food from a person like that. _Ever_. Or taunt a starving man who couldn't eat with the aromas of a fresh-cooked meal. Or spike it with poison, and force him to choose between his own ravening hunger, his own survival, and the things most precious to him. It was sick, it was twisted, and it was utterly _wrong_ for someone to pull that crap. Sanji wouldn't do it to his worst enemy, no matter the case, though he'd sure as hell like to remove the man's tongue when they finally encountered him. Let him try to taste anything again, after abusing food like that...

No. The man deserved more than just that. Sanji felt his fists clenching so hard his nails dug into the vegetables he'd been slicing for dinner, but hardly noticed the mild mutilations. The misuse of food was bad enough, but the man had gone even further, used it as just one of many tools in his arsenal to attack their swordsman. The man had forced Zoro to the brink, raped his mind for every scrap of information that could be had, cared only that his broken body was still _breathing_ long enough to claim a larger sum of money afterwards. It made Sanji want to shatter the man's skull with his _Red Leg_ martial arts more than ever.

He wasn't the type to grow all gushy and over-protective of the others (the guys, at least, he admitted to himself), and Zoro had _never_ needed his protection before anyway. Hell, much as he hated to admit it, Zoro had saved his life more than once in the past. But he was the _only_ one who knew what this unforgivable bastard had done to their swordsman, knew the man deserved to be sent straight to hell, knew _he_ had to be the one to deliver that blow to give their wounded nakama some peace.

Because he knew he would never, ever be able to share what had happened to Zoro with the others. Zoro would never stand for it, and Sanji would be eternally pledged to silence because of it. It wasn't like Thriller Bark; it didn't need to be hidden from Luffy to protect their captain. But against his better wishes, he knew he would never be able to share that information anyway, not until Zoro accepted it. At best he could convince the swordsman to share with Chopper, just so the reindeer could treat him, but even that was going to be an uphill battle when they got to it.

He briefly considered telling the rest anyway, just like he briefly had a million other times that day, and as always immediately rejected it. Just as before, he knew they would all accept it, knew nobody would blame their swordsman, knew everyone would try and reassure him. But the last thing Zoro needed was the gushing pity he would receive, when they knew. It wouldn't help him; it would probably make his already unstable mentality worse, because it would be a constant reminder to him that they knew he was _too weak_ to keep his silence. They wouldn't really think it, but as Luffy said the other day, Zoro would see it that way, and for Zoro's recovery that was all that mattered.

They would never know, unless they worked it out on their own. But damn it, Sanji wished now that somebody else_ had_ figured it out. That Usopp had listened at the door, or that Robin-chan, brilliant Robin-chan, was here on the ship and had used her well-placed eyes and ears to eavesdrop on the whole thing. Sanji had been strong enough to get the story out of Zoro, was probably the only one that could have; but he didn't think he was capable of getting the swordsman over this hurdle. He wasn't a doctor, he wasn't a psychiatrist, and he wasn't a damn miracle worker—he was a _cook_, damn it, he just wanted to make food. He could fix delicious meals, but he couldn't fix minds.

_Stop complaining,_ he thought with a frustrated hiss. _Nobody else _does _know, and you're the only one who knows enough to do anything at all, so think up a damn solution!_

So what was the problem?

There were two, as far as Sanji could see. The first was the one Zoro had brought up to him days ago: that he didn't belong on the ship because, as he put it, he 'wasn't a swordsman' anymore. But that was easily remedied, without ever having to go behind Zoro's back and divulge his secret. He could just tell Luffy himself that it would take about a year for Zoro's body to fully recover and for him to build his strength back up enough to fight again. Luffy wouldn't complain; hell, he'd probably _enjoy_ adventuring around for an extra year. The New World might be a bit dangerous to enter at this stage, with one of their strongest fighters down, but nobody said they had to go through to it immediately. Nami-san had an Eternal Pose to Sabaody, and until then they could just sail around the other routes leading up to it. The rest of them could get stronger, and Zoro could recover his strength. No biggie.

The second problem, though, was the real killer. Zoro's physical health was easy, if time consuming; his mental health was a wreck. He was convinced he was a traitor, that he didn't deserve to be on the crew because he'd handed the Alchemist the knives to stab them with and told him their weakest spots.

That was bad enough as it was, but combined with the marimo's stupid stubbornness, it could be potentially fatal—for him. Zoro could be rather laid back about most of the things that occurred on the ship, but he was always deadly serious and dangerously risky when it came to protecting the crew, enough to try chopping off his own limbs or offering his own head in place of his captain's. He genuinely believed the rest of the Straw Hats would be safer without him, and seemed equally convinced it was only a matter of time before the Alchemist showed up. The longer they waited, the more anxious over it Zoro was likely to get—and the closer he got to doing something truly stupid, like trying to make a break for it on Sabaody, or even tossing himself over the rail if nobody was keeping an eye on him. If he could barely move, he sure as hell wasn't swimming.

They had to break him out of that mentality, had to prove that he was wrong. That removing himself from the crew wouldn't help, would probably only make things worse when the rest of them wondered why he was distancing himself, or mourned him if his separation attempts went too far. That his so-called 'betrayal' wasn't a moment of weakness at all; that it was understandable, that anybody would have broken, that he'd done all he could to protect them and that was all that mattered. That his failure to hold his silence had not, and would not, kill them all, no matter how much he insisted on the contrary.

But it was easier said than done. They had to prove him wrong, but Sanji was the _only_ one who knew enough to even know _what_ had to be proved wrong. And it wasn't like his debates with the marimo had exactly gone _well_ in the past. Usually it just ended with the two of them kicking the crap out of each other until they got bored of it and forgot what they were arguing over to begin with, or Nami-san intervened. Even when it didn't dissolve into an exchange of cut-back attacks, their verbal spats fared little better. Hell, he'd even tried to rationalize seriously with the marimo right after he'd heard the man's story, and Zoro flat-out hadn't believed him.

Words weren't going to cut it. Sanji was going to have to find some way to show, not tell, their swordsman that the whole mess wasn't his fault, that he wasn't a traitor, and that his mistake wasn't going to cost them in the end. And he had to do it without divulging the man's secret to the rest of the crew, which would only make things worse.

The answer came to him unexpectedly. It wasn't much of one, but it was all he had to go on: they had to beat the Alchemist.

It was simple, really. Zoro believed he had as good as murdered all of them by setting this man on them. Zoro had to be proved wrong. What better way than to kick this Alchemist's ass, even when the man was armed with knowledge of all their combat skills?

If—no, _when_—the man went down, it would push the marimo's recovery forward a little more. He would know the crew he was trying to protect was safe, even with him still in it, even with his 'betrayal.' It would prove to him that even if Pirate Hunter Zoro was monumentally strong, that one moment of weakness in unfathomable, horrifying conditions was acceptable—that he wasn't a demon, he was just human, a _strong_ human but human nonetheless. That his nakama wouldn't abandon him, throw him to the sharks, and allow him to die.

That they _were_ nakama, and always protected each other, absolutely, unconditionally, unhesitatingly.

Of course, that hinged on stubborn marimo lasting long enough to witness that defeat, to be proved wrong. Because even if they_ did_ take down the Alchemist, it would mean nothing if it was in revenge for a dead nakama, or in a rage over one that had gone missing (and Sanji didn't doubt that if Zoro intentionally got himself lost to 'protect' them they'd never find him again). They had to reach Sabaody as soon as possible, and hope that Robin-chan, Franky and Chopper were already waiting for them, or close enough to reach them soon. Had to keep an eye on Zoro until then, to make sure he didn't do anything monumentally stupid in his twisted, messed-up attempts to protect them all.

And they had to hope the Alchemist didn't find them in the interim. Because Sanji was sure they wouldn't last in a fight against him without all eight of their current combatants rested and at the ready.

And he was sure proving Zoro right would almost certainly kill him, not too long after their own deaths.

* * *

**Don't forget to give me your opinion on rating (stated at the beginning of the chapter). I am very, very interested in you guys' opinions on this!**

As always, if you leave a review, make sure it's a thoughtful one :)

~VelkynKarma


	13. Anathema

**Mindshattered**

Part thirteen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Business, Concluded:** Thanks for your rating feedback, everybody. Of the 11 people who responded to my question, 3 of you thought the rating should go up completely to M, while 8 of you thought it would be better to stress the M ratings in the two more gruesome chapters but overall leave it T. I'll be going with the latter option since it was the most supported and will be editing those two chapters to stress that they ARE more mature than the rest. Again, thank you ALL for your feedback on the matter!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"In a world that I don't want to know,  
With a message that I never want to send,  
To be freed from all of this  
I want you to quicken my end

Don't tell me I cannot go  
With a wound that refuses to mend  
Deliver me from all of this—  
I want you to quicken my end."  
~_Criminal, _Disturbed

* * *

The final three days of their return trip to Sabaody Archipelago were not eventful as far as the sailing went. Sanji _had_ gone out of his way to make a few changes in their routine, however, and that had made the final three days unusual at best.

The first had been the unofficial group meeting at breakfast, the day after Sanji had come up with his solution to help Zoro. He'd shared with Nami-san, Luffy, Usopp and Brook that beating the Alchemist might help Zoro get better and drag him out of his unusual funk, though he was careful to leave no hints as to why, lest any of them (most likely Nami-san) figure out the exact reasons for that conclusion. It had been easy enough to convince most of them that it was a matter of revenge and little else, thankfully.

He had also taken that opportunity to express how important it was that they kept a_ very_ careful eye on Zoro from then on. "I'm sure he's going to try and get off the ship again at some point, if he can," Sanji had told them firmly. "He's already tried to convince all of us but Luffy to put him off at that last island. The last thing we need is him drowning himself."

Usopp had been appalled at that. "It's not _that_ bad, is it?" he'd asked with surprise, and the others stared at him with equal expressions of horror at the thought of it.

Sanji had thankfully realized what they meant, and shook his head hastily. "No, no, it's nothing like that," he'd reassured them. "I don't think Zoro will intentionally try to kill himself like that. But...you know how stubborn he is. I'm almost positive he thinks that if he gets off the ship this guy will keep chasing him and won't attack us." Which was _almost_ true, and based in facts even if Sanji was twisting them considerably for his own purposes. "You know how stubborn he is," he repeated. "He's stupid enough to try shitty tactics when he thinks he's protecting the crew."

"Cutting off his hands," Usopp had agreed with a grim nod.

"Or his feet," Nami-san added, and shuddered at her own close-call memory with that stupidity.

"Right," Sanji had nodded, and avoided mentioning his own encounter with that stupidity on Thriller Bark, even if it was the most powerful of them all. "He'll try it, but he's still really weak, and any sort of accident could happen. It could kill him even if he never intended for it."

So they'd agreed to keep firmer watches on him from then on, especially once they reached Sabaody. But also during the three remaining days of sailing, because Sanji had insisted on one other change in schedule: that they let Zoro outside the infirmary a little each day.

Nami-san and Usopp had both been a little hesitant about it, at first. Zoro was getting better, but he was still markedly unhealthy. While he'd been gaining more weight and was starting to be able to do more things under his own power, it still clearly hurt him to move, and the smallest things could still cause a surprising amount of damage to him. What would happen if a particularly bad wave knocked him over, or something came unfastened on the deck, or Luffy smashed into him accidentally while playing?

But Sanji hadn't let up on that particular argument, not even with Nami-san. After hearing Zoro's story, he'd come to realize the man hadn't been conscious while outside in over two months. And while the infirmary had a window, it hardly compared to feeling a breeze on one's face, or smelling the salty ocean air. The infirmary had felt like a prison to the cook after only a few short hours of being immersed in Zoro's tale. He couldn't begin to imagine how much like a cell it had to be to Zoro, who had hated the infirmary to begin with and couldn't even willingly move out of it now.

Nami-san and Usopp had eventually relented, and after that somebody would help the swordsman out onto the deck for a few hours every day, and set him down in a comfortable chair or in one of his favorite napping corners. Whoever was on Zoro duty always kept him firmly in sight during these times, and watched him like a hawk, but Zoro never tried anything as far as they could tell. Indeed, he seemed a little grateful for the chance to escape the infirmary for a few hours at a time, and was _almost_ sociable with whoever was nearby pretending not to watch him. He slept through most of those hours, too, but as far as Sanji could tell it was a far more relaxed rest than he'd ever had on the infirmary cot. It didn't fix the man's deteriorating mental health, but at least it made him more comfortable, which was a start.

Unfortunately they'd had to halt the practice as soon as they were within sight of Sabaody Archipelago, and Sanji wished he'd thought of it earlier. But it would be too dangerous to have Zoro on deck once they reached their destination. Displaying him openly while he was so weak would be a veritable invitation for any bounty hunters, and especially the Alchemist. Not to mention, in the confusion of docking, searching for their friends, and preparing for departure, it would be far too easy for Zoro to take advantage of all the activity and vanish from the deck to who knew where. It would be easier for them to both keep an eye on him and protect him if he was in the infirmary, and keep him away from dangerous searching eyes in the process.

And besides, Sabaody was dangerous enough as it was even _without_ a sickly nakama to have to defend. They knew that all too well from experience. It was too close to the marines' eyes for comfort, and the World Nobles' as well, and too many things could go wrong simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fortunately, their crew was resourceful and had come up with a few plans to ensure their safety. For starters, they avoided the previous groves they had docked at (and the ones they'd fought in too, Sanji thought with a furious shudder). Nami-san eased the _Thousand Sunny_ into the docks at Grove Twenty-Three, still within the limits of the relatively pirate-safe section of Sabaody, and planned to move the ship every few days until they could depart for good. It would make it more difficult for Robin-chan, Franky and Chopper to find them, but it would also be more difficult for any potential enemies to find them as well. And their still-missing nakama had other resources; the crew planned to leave a message with Shakky and Rayleigh at the bar as to where they were. Those two were trustworthy, Luffy assured firmly, and would be more than willing to help.

_Un_fortunately, they soon discovered, there were a few things they hadn't counted on that had already gone wrong.

For starters, everyone agreed that they should keep the ship well stocked and ready to run at a moment's notice. All of them were stronger now, but that didn't mean they wanted to go looking for fights, especially with only half a crew and a _very_ high chance their swordsman could end up injured or dead in the process. That meant they needed to restock on medical supplies (as well as they could, at any rate, with their limited knowledge) and of course food stores.

But therein lay the problem. They couldn't all leave the ship unattended like they had last time, not with Zoro on it, and he was in no condition to get dragged all over Sabaody while they did supplies shopping. A few of them would need to stay behind to guard both the ship and their wounded nakama, and at least one of those few had to be either Luffy or Sanji. As the top two strongest members of the crew, they would both likely be needed for any major combat. And Luffy was insistent on exploring the Archipelago again, and on visiting Shakky's bar to say hello once more and deliver his message. He didn't seem concerned at all for their current predicament, probably figuring that Sanji would make good on his promise and everything would be all better with their crew shortly.

Unfortunately that meant Sanji had to stay behind, and wouldn't be able to do the food shopping. In the end he'd been forced to write up a list and give it to Nami-san, apologizing profusely for being unable to do his job and burdening her with the work. She waved it off calmly and insisted it was fine. She would be taking Luffy and Brook with her, after all, and she could always force them to carry everything once she'd made the purchases. Usopp agreed to stay behind with Sanji, more to help keep an eye out for impending danger than to participate in a fight if it came; he still seemed to think he wouldn't be of any use whatsoever against the Alchemist.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Nami-san asked worriedly. "You said it was going to take _all_ of us to fight this man that attacked Zoro. What if he shows up when the rest of us aren't here?"

"Nami-san is so kind to worry about me!" Sanji had chanted delightedly, but at her stern look he forced himself to be more serious and added, "We won't fight. Not for long, at any rate. I figure I can probably distract him long enough for Usopp to grab Zoro and run." And at her even sterner look, he added, "And I promise I won't stick around to fight him after! I'll make a break for it too, in the opposite direction. We can come back later when the coast is clear."

Usopp nodded at the plan, showing his willingness to help if he could, and though Nami-san looked skeptical she finally sighed and nodded. "Alright. You two be careful, then. We'll be back in a bit with supplies."

And so began the long process of waiting. Sanji and Usopp both spent most of the day constantly looking over their shoulders, keeping an eye out for potential threats. But the pirates in the area kept their heads down as always, to avoid catching the marines' eyes, and while one team of bounty hunters tried to make a move on the newly-arrived ship somewhere after noon they were even weaker than Duval's group. Sanji made short work of them, and even Usopp helped take down a few with his improved skills that he'd learned after _his_ vanishing adventure.

They both knew the run-of-the-mill bounty hunters weren't the real threat. It was unspoken, but both were keeping a wary eye out for the man that had caused Zoro so much trouble. Sanji had described the Alchemist so that his friends would not be caught unaware, but both were hoping beyond reason that the man did not show up for another few days, until they were ready. Their backup plan of running for it was flimsy at best, and Sanji wasn't entirely sure how long he _could_ last against this Alchemist on his own, especially when the man knew every single one of his attacks.

But in the end the man didn't show up, and it was actually Zoro himself who caused the most trouble for them on their first day at the Archipelago. As soon as he woke up and learned where they were, he became stubbornly insistent on wanting to take a walk. He'd done it last time, he claimed, and nothing bad had happen until the fight they'd all been in.

"Forget it," Sanji told him firmly. "You're staying here."

Zoro's eyes narrowed dangerously at that. In months previous, Sanji was positive that glare would have immediately been followed by the ring of steel as swords were drawn, and he would have found himself in combat seconds later. Zoro couldn't attack him now, so he did the next most defiant thing he could: tossed the blankets off, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and struggled to come to his feet.

"I don't think you should walk yet," Usopp said anxiously, wringing his hands, but Zoro ignored him. "Sanji?" He pleaded next, giving the resident expert a helpless look, as if to say, _what now?_

"Go ahead," Sanji said. "See if you can get past me, marimo. If you can, I'll let you take your damn walk." And he stood resolutely in the doorway, arms crossed, legs tensed and at the ready.

He was stunned that Zoro made it as far as he did. He _had _been getting stronger, strong enough to move more often and for longer periods of time, but even so...this had to be excruciating for him. Muscle movement would still be agonizing at this stage, and Sanji was sure he was only getting as far as he was because of a shot of determination laced with adrenaline. It wouldn't last long, but Zoro managed to not only stand, but stumble across the infirmary floor to the door without having to stop for rest or put out a hand against some piece of furniture for balance.

And then Zoro was in front of him, meeting him eye to eye with that baleful, determined look, made sickly by the dark circles under his eyes and the still-skeletal appearance of his face. "Get out of the way, curlybrow."

"Hell no. I told you, marimo, if you're strong enough to get past me, you can go. Otherwise, no deal."

Zoro still stared at him, looked livid. "You know why I have to leave."

"And you know what I told you last time you gave me that bullshit excuse. _It's not true_. You're staying here."

"Damn it, you stupid love-cook," Zoro snarled, and as the _Sunny_ gave a little swell beneath them from the waves, he suddenly half-stumbled, half-lunged forward.

Considering the circumstances, he did remarkably well for his first battle in nearly two months. Which was to say, he managed to get one hand fisted around Sanji's shirt before the cook brought his leg swinging out of nowhere for the counterattack. He was very, very careful with the blow, slammed only his knee into the marimo's side with a level of force that, for him, would have been considered gentle; avoided his stomach, because he knew how painful that would be on a multitude of levels.

Sanji found the situation ironic. It was an exact reversal of roles from Thriller Bark all those months ago now, when Zoro had unfairly hit him in the side with one sword-hilt to knock him out and keep him from offering his head in Luffy's place. He'd managed to grab onto Zoro's arm for a second then, in a sudden burst of understanding and fury before passing out; knew why marimo had done it, but definitely not happy with it all the same.

And now it was Zoro hanging off him for a fraction of a second, digging his fingers still more deeply into Sanji's shirt as he struggled to stay upright, glared hatefully into Sanji's one visible eye. And he seemed to recognize that role-reversal too, because he half-coughed, half-whispered, "You...damn..._bastard_," before crumpling completely.

"Sorry, marimo," Sanji said out loud, though he doubted the man could hear him anymore; he was _definitely_ unconscious. "Looks like you're not strong enough yet."

_"Sanji!"_ Usopp nearly shrieked, and dived frantically to check on Zoro. "What'd you do_ that _for, you didn't have to do that, he would've crashed anyway just trying to push past you—"

"He's fine," Sanji said shortly. "And I had a little payback to give him anyway."

Usopp gave him a curious, confused look, but Sanji didn't deign to answer. The two of them lifted Zoro back to the cot and threw the blankets over him once again, left him to rest for a few more hours.

Sanji had hoped that would be the last and only day they were stuck there, waiting for their nakama to arrive, but unfortunately it wasn't the case. When Nami-san, Luffy, and Brook arrived back on the ship later that day (the last two carrying huge parcels containing the foodstuffs he'd requested) it was with nothing but bad news. Neither Rayleigh nor Shakky had seen any of their three missing friends, and had heard no hints or rumors that any of them were hiding among the Groves, either. They were probably safe (Luffy did not seem overly anxious, at any rate, like he had been when insisting they go to find Zoro in the first place), but it meant they still hadn't reached the Archipelago. Which in turn meant they would be waiting here even longer, like sitting ducks, for the last half of their team to arrive. The situation was quickly and uncomfortably turning into a race. Would Robin-chan, Chopper and Franky find them before the Alchemist did?

But there was little else they could do until then, except be prepared and be ready. Rayleigh and Shakky had both agreed to deliver the messages regarding the _Sunny's_ current port, if they happened to see any of their missing friends, and had passed the message on to a few other reliable and trustworthy friends as well just to be safe. When Robin-chan, Franky and Chopper arrived, they would be able to find the _Thousand Sunny_ within hours. Those crew members already on the ship had made half a dozen backup plans for any other sort of trouble that came their way, and now all they could do was trust themselves and wait.

The first night was gut-churning mess of unpleasantries. Night would be an excellent time to attack, when the rest of the crew was sleeping. Nami-san assigned two people to be on watch at all times, and Sanji and Luffy were both required to pull extra-long watches, once again as the top combatants. Luffy seemed to find the whole mess exciting, and didn't seem to see what all the fuss was about. In his eyes, they would easily be able to take down this bounty hunter that had hurt Zoro, because they were defending their nakama and that was all that mattered. He didn't know what had happened to Zoro in full; he couldn't begin to understand.

For Sanji, it was an exhausting and tension-filled night, and in the end nothing even happened. After half-heartedly cooking breakfast the next day, Nami-san encouraged him once again to go take a nap while Luffy remained on deck as the current defending combatant. With explicit instructions to the rest of the crew to _come fucking_ get _him if Zoro was hungry, this time,_ he accepted Nami-san's generous encouragement and took a well-deserved rest.

But other than another weak bounty-hunter group's attempt at their heads and two more 'walk' attempts by Zoro (both firmly put down by Nami-san, with the threats of tying him to the bed and six-hundred thousand additional beri added to his debt on charges of stupidity), nothing notable happened on day two at Sabaody either. Robin-chan, Chopper and Franky all remained absent, and there was no sign of the Alchemist that Zoro insisted so firmly wasn't done with him. Sanji knew better than to underestimate their dangerous, but as yet unseen, adversary. And yet he was beginning to wonder if the man would be able to track them down at all, especially since Nami-san planned to move the _Sunny's_ position to a new grove first thing tomorrow morning.

But that evening, as Sanji was preparing dinner and the sun began its slow descent, turning the sky blood red and vivid orange, things began to change.

* * *

He watched the ship quietly from a short distance away, well hidden in the shadows of one of the massive mangrove trees. There was no mistaking it. This was the _Thousand Sunny,_ the same ship he had glanced in the far distance, the same ship that Roronoa Zoro had described in vivid detail to him. It was moored here, in Grove Twenty-Three, and they appeared to be staying for the night.

It was here that his quarry had escaped to.

He was sure of it now, though he had been watching for two hours and seen not a green hair on Roronoa Zoro's head. It was hard to hear conversations at this distance, but he was sure he'd heard his resource's name more than once, and the crew members on the ship passed in and out of a door on the ship that he thought might be the infirmary (again based on Roronoa's descriptions) with some regularity. He had to be here. There was no other option, not at this point.

Truth be told, he was stunned it had taken him as long as he had to find them. He had arrived several days ago, moored his ship in one of the groves reserved for the marines, and begun a systematic search of the pirate-infested groves, starting with the first. He had seen nothing until now, but had been fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the_ Sunny's_ lion figurehead when first approaching Grove Twenty-Three for his last search of the day. And judging from the rumors, they had already been here for a day already.

He'd waited and watched even longer after that, considering his options. By all reports, the Straw Hats had last been seen as a full crew on Sabaody. He thought he had only seen a partial crew while pursuing them on the open sea, but it was entirely possible their remaining crew members were somewhere on the Archipelago, had maybe even met up with the Straw Hats upon their arrival. If that was the case, he would have to forego an assault tonight, and instead plan to pick them off in smaller groups in the future. Based on everything Roronoa had told him, he did not want to fight the full crew, not without considerable backup.

But the longer he watched, the more he became convinced that the full crew had still not assembled. He had seen an orange-haired woman, a long-nosed young man, a skeleton, a second man in a suit, and a boy wearing a straw hat; Cat-Burglar Nami, Sogeking, Humming Brook, Black-Leg Sanji, and Straw Hat Luffy, he knew, from a combination of the posters and Roronoa's own descriptions. But that left three of the Straw Hats' crew unaccounted for, and he was sure by now that they were not on the ship.

He could not guarantee that such a separation would last for long. For all he knew, the remaining crew members could show up tomorrow, and that would cut his chances of success significantly. Especially if they tried to cut and run. It meant he would have to launch his attack tonight, or risk losing his chance.

A quick inventory of the dozens of flasks in his coat told him he was more than prepared, had been since the day he left his island. Still, better not to take risks. He would verify one last time the positions of each person on the ship from a closer angle before beginning his attack.

He was more than familiar with the art of stealth, and slipped towards the ship between the shadows cast in the setting sun. He reached the _Sunny_ easily without catching the eyes of either Straw Hat Luffy or Humming Brook, both of whom were on deck, presumably keeping watch.

Getting on to the ship was tricky; it was exceptionally well crafted, and had no loose boards or untended port holes to grip. He managed to scale the ship at its rear end, however, and secure a grip just below the railings before listening carefully. He could hear voices, but at the front of the ship, meaning there was no threat to his current position. Moving quickly, he flipped himself over the rails, touched down with catlike grace, and scaled the next section of the ship, slipping onto a new deck that had a number of fruit trees but no people.

He crouched here, took a moment to try and get his bearings. Based on the information he'd extracted from Roronoa, he believed the infirmary was directly below him, and the kitchen alongside it. His immediate goal was certainly situated in the infirmary, but just to be safe, he crouched in one corner and waited patiently, listening once more.

Another half hour passed, and the shadows deepened further as the sun sank. He heard no new voices, only the ones he had come to familiarize himself with during the initial observation of the ship. That was extremely fortunate. The Marines' reports concerning their last encounter with the Straw Hat crew stated quite clearly that Silvers Rayleigh had unexpectedly shown up to defend the crew when it was about to be taken. It meant that Straw-Hat had friends in high places, and could probably request aid from them if he was intelligent. He was not about to engage with Silvers Rayleigh, not for all the beri on the Archipelago, and would have abandoned the mission immediately if he'd so much as detected the man on the _Thousand Sunny._

But the only people on the ship were members of the Straw Hat crew, and only half of them were present at that. Perfect odds.

The Straw Hat boy had been dancing on deck with the skeleton for some time now, as Humming Brook played lively tunes on a violin, but he had stopped now and begun complaining loudly. "_Sanjiiiii_...I'm hungry! When's dinner!"

The answering shout came from below him and a little to his left. "You'll get it when it's good and ready, Luffy! I'm working on it right now. You can't rush art."

So the cook, and second biggest threat, was currently in the kitchen—and from the sounds of it would be for some time. He filed that away carefully.

"I don't care how it looks," the Straw Hat captain complained now. "I just want to eat it!" He bounded up the stairs towards the kitchen. The man crouched reflexively, but Straw Hat didn't appear to notice him, and after a moment the boy disappeared below him into the galley.

Humming Brook had stopped playing, and was currently peering into the mangrove trees, searching through the gloom for something or other. The navigator and the sniper were not in sight, and he realized this would be his opportunity.

"Luffy, get the hell out of my kitchen! You're supposed to be _on watch!_"

"Brook's out there, it'll be fine for just two minutes. I'm hungry, give me a snack—"

"Wait for dinner, damn it!"

There was thudding and banging coming from below him now, but he was too focused to care. He slipped a small clear vial from his coat quickly, downing its pale blue-white contents in a single quaff, before beginning his attack. Moving carefully to the edge of the deck, he grabbed the rail and flipped himself carefully over it, dropping again in near silence to the wooden planks below. His aim had been perfect; he was right in front of a door. He opened it quickly, slid in with fluid grace before either Straw Hat or the cook left the kitchen and discovered his presence. Though judging by the banging coming from the adjoining room, he really didn't have anything to worry about.

He closed the door quickly and turned around, eyes darting to take in the sights. There was a desk, a bookcase, and a number of other medical odds and ends laying about the room, but what really drew his attention was the cot over in one corner. Roronoa Zoro was laid out flat on that cot, currently asleep. He looked much different than when the man had seen him last; his hair was cropped short, if a bit uneven, he was clean-shaven again, his skin had been scrubbed clean, and his face—the only part of him visible due to the blankets piled on him—looked a little fuller, as if he'd gained a few pounds. That was unfortunate. The Straw Hats were undoing a good deal of the work he'd done to bring Roronoa to the brink in the first place. Now it would take at least two weeks to return him to his original state. The man sighed.

That single noise had the room's second occupant turning around curiously. The long-nosed boy, presumably Sogeking, had been sitting in a chair next to Roronoa's bed, fiddling with a screwdriver and a small mechanical something-or-other in his lap. But now his head spun, and he was saying with a soft yawn, "Oh...is it really dinner time already, Sanji? Give me a second with this, I'm almost done and then—"

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second as he glimpsed the man, but that was all the time he was given. The man's fist shot out quickly, and he had slammed the hilt of the knife in that fist straight into the back of the boy's head. The maskless Sogeking gave a short grunt, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed.

The man caught him quickly before he he could fall off the chair and sent it clattering, alerting the others to his presence. But he had not anticipated that Roronoa himself would be startled awake by even that soft noise. The Pirate Hunter's head jerked reflexively in the direction of the chair, where his friend would be, and his eyes widened as they fell on the man that had held him captive for two months.

"You fucking bastard!" Roronoa snarled, and even as the Alchemist dived forward to silence him the pirate managed to free one of his hands from under the blanket, wrap it around the man's wrist. His grip was marginally stronger than what it had been last, but his whole arm trembled with the exertion of trying to hold that man at bay, to fight back.

The thumping in the adjacent room, the kitchen, stopped abruptly.

Roronoa glared at him, a frenzied stare that the Alchemist knew all too well—and there, too, was the self-loathing and raw terror he'd worked so hard to force into the man as well. So his work had not been completely removed, yet; its foundations were still in place. Well, once a man was broken, it was very hard to reverse the process completely. He was all too familiar with that.

"I still have questions for you to answer," he said cooly, calmly, because it was truth. "You will come back with me to your cell, until I choose to turn you in to the marines." And that frenzy, that determination, that anger, melted from Roronoa's face as suddenly as it had come, leaving room only for the fear, the loathing, and the abject helplessness, hopelessness, that had come in the final weeks.

He broke Roronoa's weak grip with a sharp twist that had the former Hunter gasping in pain, and then struck him in the side of the head. Roronoa went limp instantly, and his hand dropped, still trembling.

Moving quickly, the Alchemist gathered both his prizes and headed for the door.

* * *

_Uh, Karma, what is this? You seem to have written the story wrong. See, the Alchemist is supposed to get his ass kicked, not **capture Zoro again.**_

What, you didn't think I'd make it _easy_, did you? Mehehehehehahahahaha...

You guys know the drill. Reviews, make them thoughtful, I love it when they're thoughtful!

~VelkynKarma


	14. Paranoia Countdown

**Mindshattered**

Part fourteen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Surprise!** A slightly early update, because I love you guys and also I don't want you to lynch me.

**Note:** We're all anime fans here, so when I say I am obligated to say this, I'm sure you'll understand. My hit count for this fic is officially _over nine thousaaaaaand!_ (What? Nine thousand?)

**Music Box: **Haven't done this yet for this fic! But I feel obligated to for these next two chapters. **This fic was written with copious amounts of the following song:**

www (dot) youtube (dot) com (slash) watch?v=mWpQnM1HieQ

I basically consider it to be **The Alchemist's Theme Song **and every time I needed to brainstorm and get in his mindset I would listen to this on repeat. You should try it too while reading this chapter. You'll liiiiiike it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Five little Soldier boys going in for law;  
One got in Chancery and then there were four.  
Four little Soldier boys going out to sea;  
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.  
Three little Soldier boys walking in the zoo;  
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.  
Two Little Soldier boys sitting in the sun;  
One got frizzled up and then there was one.  
One little Soldier boy left all alone;  
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none."  
~_And then There Were None, _Agatha Christie

* * *

Sanji delivered an excellent kick to his captain's midsection that would have sent any other man flying. Unfortunately, Luffy did not fall into the category of 'any other man' terribly often—or indeed at all—and merely absorbed the impact with his rubbery body, stumbling to the side a few paces and little else.

He opened his mouth to whine and wheedle for a snack before dinner—which Sanji was fully prepared to absolutely refuse; the brat could wait half a damn hour to eat!—when they heard the swearing coming from the infirmary.

Sanji and Luffy instantly froze. Zoro had been known to swear often, even now; hell, he and Sanji exchanged coarse conversations on a regular basis every time Sanji brought Zoro a meal of late. But he hadn't been known to furiously yell at _Usopp_ like that, and it was their sniper who was currently on Zoro-watching duty. Was Zoro pulling another unexpected attempt to escape? Sanji and Luffy exchanged confused looks and listened, their argument forgotten.

Moments later they heard a strangled gasp of pain, muffled through the Adam wood walls, and then everything was abruptly silent again. Frowning, Sanji paused only long enough to snap the oven off (the last thing he needed was to burn the ship down) before he and Luffy both darted out the door.

They'd barely gotten through the galley portal before Luffy froze, and Sanji careened into his captain before stumbling backwards and gaining his feet. Surprised, he opened his mouth to ask Luffy what the hell he was stopping in a doorway for, but his voice cracked when he saw the livid expression on his captain's face.

Luffy wasn't just angry. He was _furious._ The same kind of fury that had been responsible for destroying warships and thoroughly trashing the most dangerous of enemies. Sanji whipped his head around to find the object of that stare, and his own expression melted into a matching one of sheer hatred when he saw what was going on.

There was a man on their ship, one that did not belong there. He was calmly stepping out of the infirmary, and was watching them cooly, without a trace of fear or worry. One hand was hooked around the straps of Usopp's overalls, and their sniper drooped like a ragdoll. The bloody stain on the back of his bandana clearly showed why. The other hand was clamped around Zoro's neck, squeezing so hard it was already leaving bruises, and Zoro too drooped like a dead thing, arms dragging along the floor.

It was ironic, really, Sanji thought in a vague corner of his mind. He had never seen this man before in his life, but recognized him instantly, had already hated him for days. The black overcoat and bowler hat were unmistakable, and the cook suddenly understood what Zoro had meant when he'd compared this man to one of the Pacifistas. He was emotionless, soulless, and that made him strangely frightening.

_"You put them down,"_ Luffy said with a snarl, fist already drawing back dangerously. Sanji, too, crouched at the ready, resisted charging forward to put his dress shoes through the man's cold, callous face only because he was holding a pair of hostages, and the way he had that grip on Zoro's _neck..._

"I cannot," the man answered calmly. "They are prisoners, to rightfully be turned in to the marines for their crimes."

There was movement on the decks now. Brook had noticed that the threat was no longer coming from Sabaody's groves, but was already on the ship with them, and was running forward with cane-sword drawn to provide his support. And Nami-san had heard the commotion too, because she came charging out of her study with her Clima-Tact in hand, shouting loudly, "What's going on, what's happening?"

The Alchemist shifted, and it was all the invitation Luffy needed. With a roar of _"Gomu-Gomu no Pistol!"_ he had fired one rubbery fist in the man's direction, aiming for the bastard's chest.

But the man anticipated it, just as Sanji knew he would. He was familiar with Luffy's attacks, after all, just like he knew everyone else's attacks too. The man leapt atop the short railing just in front of the infirmary and, without pause, launched himself into the air and downwards towards the grassy deck. He rolled to his feet, dropped both of his captives and stood over them, plunging his hands into his inner coat pockets and withdrawing a single vial.

Sanji was already vaulting the railings to follow, and Brook was running forward as well, setting sunlight gleaming off his single sword blade. But the Alchemist threw the vial at their feet with a practiced snap of one wrist, and the delicate glass shattered, sending clouds of purple smoke into the air that burned at the throat and eyes and made breathing extremely difficult.

Sanji staggered forward, and heard Luffy roar _"Gomu Gomu no Pistol!"_ again in the same furious tone as before. He waved some of the noxious purple gas aside at the same time that Luffy's rubber fist shot past him, and half-coughed, half-groaned. It was too easy, and the man was sure to anticipate it.

And sure enough, as the streaking rubber attack shot forward, the Alchemist was ready. He twisted with one sharp, precise movement, and Luffy's fist shot past. But the man wasn't finished yet. With a quick snap, he shot his hand out and grabbed a hold of Luffy's still-stretching arm, digging his fingers in with such crushing force it probably would have left bruises if the attacker had been a regular human.

Luffy swayed instantly, and his eyelids dropped to half mast as his tongue flopped out. He groaned, and it was obviously suddenly taking him everything he had to keep standing. Sanji choked out a swear and tried to dart forward, aim some sort of kick. But he was still doubled over and coughing badly from whatever was in those purple fumes, and could barely move, much less try to defend his captain.

"It has to be seastone," Nami-san said beside him, and Sanji would have jumped in surprise if he wasn't busy trying to breathe. He hadn't heard her approach. A few moments later a strong breeze wafted through the area, and the noxious cloud of purple fumes dispersed under its pressure, cleansing the air and freeing a baffled (but non-breathing) Brook from its confines. Almost immediately Sanji's coughing began to subside, and he stood straight in time to see Nami-san slipping a strange rope with two knots into her belt.

"Th-thank you, Nami-san," he managed to gasp, and glanced over quickly at where Luffy was still swaying, looking for all the world as if he was about to fall asleep. "And you're probably right."

"She is right," the Alchemist confirmed. He jerked Luffy's arm quickly as the rubber-man's abilities were fully negated by the presence of seastone. Unable to snap his arm back to his body, the reverse happened, and Luffy went sailing in the direction of the loathsome man immediately. The Alchemist collared him, then held up one hand, where he had somehow managed to palm a device that looked like a mix between an oversized thumbtack and a syringe.

"A liquidized form, of my own creation," the man explained calmly. "The dosage is small and will not last more than half an hour, but that should be adequate for now." And to the horror of the three remaining battle-ready Straw Hats, the man lifted Luffy's still dazed body and threw him overboard, into the ocean.

"Luffy!" three voices screamed at the same time, and Sanji felt himself suddenly caught in a furious mental struggle. Jump overboard, and rescue their captain? If he did it would leave Nami-san and Brook undefended against this monster, or the bastard could run with his hostages. But if he stayed, Luffy was sure to drown, no questions asked.

"One of you had better do something," the Alchemist said in a reasonable tone, looking first at Nami-san, and then at Sanji. "You are the only two capable of swimming at the present moment. I am certain you do not wish to see your friend drown, and I am not interested in allowing a three hundred million bounty to deteriorate by thirty percent for turning in a corpse."

They froze, and Sanji understood the bastard's strategy suddenly. He was dividing them up, making it even easier for him to take them down one by one. He understood with sudden gravity why Zoro had warned them time and time again to run; this sick bastard was too calculating, too ruthless, for them to take on. Maybe even with the full crew.

Sanji was still debating which course to take, hesitating as he was forced to choose _which nakama to save,_ and his entire body trembled as his mind rushed frantically to find a solution. But then Nami-san took the choice from him. Throwing down her Clima-Tact suddenly, she kicked off her sandals and darted for the rails, shouting over her shoulder, "I'll take care of Luffy, Sanji-kun! Help Brook beat this guy!"

"Yes, Nami-san!" he answered immediately, and as he heard the splash seconds later he felt his resolve returning. Nami-san had saved them all in more ways than one, there. He was going to make her the best, most delicious mikan drink, when this was all over...if they made it, that was.

"And then there were two," the Alchemist said calmly, eyeing both Sanji and Brook with a calculated gaze. "I have just neutralized the most dangerous member of the crew. According to Roronoa, the next most dangerous would be you, Black-Leg Sanji. So you will be my next target."

Sanji saw Brook's confusion for a fraction of a second as Zoro was named. But then the Alchemist had darted forward towards him with sudden speed, and it was all Sanji could do to throw himself aside. The man lashed out with his knife, barely missing Sanji's body and gouging a six-inch trail in the Adam's wood wall behind him. He retracted the blade as easily as if he had sliced through butter, and turned to regard the cook with a curious tilt of his head.

"Roronoa was quite correct," the Alchemist said cooly. "I expected your style to be based off of agility, but you are even faster than I anticipated." Slipping a hand inside his coat, he added, "Fortunately, I came prepared," and withdrew a small vial. It contained little more than a mouthful of a bright green liquid, and as Sanji watched the man tilted his head back and quaffed it in one gulp.

"Essence of the cheetah," the man explained, holding the now empty vial aloft before slipping it back into his coat. "A speed potion, in essence. Short in duration, but powerful in application." And then he lowered his head and charged.

If Sanji had thought he was fast before, his speed was unbelievable now. It was like the _soru_ the marines and CP9 agents favored so highly, or like Luffy's own _Gear Second's _enhanced speed, but with one major difference: Sanji couldn't keep up with him. He tried to duck, to bring one knee up in some measure of defense, but before his head had so much as dipped or his leg so much as twitched the man was on him. One, two, three, fourfivesix—the blows came consecutively, unhesitatingly, struck Sanji everywhere. Arms, legs, stomach, chest, head, and some of them were more than just punches; Sanji could feel the razor-edged knife blade sliding through his suit jacket and through skin more than once, felt the sharp flashes of pain that meant he was being cut open alongside the duller, more persistent ones that were powerful punches.

He yelled in surprise, gasped in pain, tried to stagger back and recover enough to guard. But the man was viciously persistent, kept striking over and over, always aiming for the same places that he had already injured, building up the pain so that it was becoming too much to bear, too much to take—

_"Polka Remise!"_ came Brook's high-pitched cry, and the next second Sanji was aware of hundreds of flashes as the still-setting sun glittered violently off of Brook's cane blade. The light burned, but Sanji welcomed it, because as the flashes came still faster the rapid-fire attacks on his body abruptly ceased. Sanji staggered backwards once again, planted his foot firmly, and forced himself to come to a full stand to face his opponent. His legs quivered from the exertion and the few wounds he had taken there—the Alchemist had focused most of the knife attacks on his legs, presumably to weaken him—but Sanji wasn't beaten yet, and wouldn't go down that easy.

He raised his head in time to see the Alchemist leaping backwards, away from Brook. The man landed a safe distance from his two opponents, only a few feet from Zoro and Usopp (still unconscious) and fell into a wary crouch. There was a single thin scratch on his chin, shallow but still bleeding, and he cocked his head with a contemplative frown as he regarded Brook.

"Is that the name of the attack?" he asked, after a moment. "Roronoa was familiar with a rapid thrusting technique, but had no name to give it. _Polka Remise_. I will remember that in the future."

Sanji narrowed his eyes and glared across at the bastard, but took note of the blood droplets. The man had apparently not taken a Steelskin potion this time, which could give Brook something of an advantage. The Alchemist had to know they had a second swordsman now, though, even if his caliber didn't seem to be nearly as high as Zoro's. Why take the risk?

_Maybe he can't mix potions,_ Sanji thought idly. Not that it helped, in the end. The man was still fast enough to kill them all without needing impenetrable skin.

Brook fell into a defensive stance beside Sanji, and glanced over at his current battle partner anxiously (Sanji thought, anyway; it was a bit had to tell with Brook's limited capacity for facial expressions). "Are you alright, Sanji-san?" he asked, and he definitely _sounded_ concerned.

"Fine. This is nothing," Sanji said, and though his wounds did sting pretty badly he meant every word of it. He knew perfectly well what that man was capable of. His current collection of scratches and bruises were barely the tip of the iceberg.

"That sounds quite familiar," the Alchemist commented. "Not only are you still standing, but you appear to still be willing to engage in further combat. I do believe you are just as remarkably enduring as Roronoa was."

"_Is,_" Sanji snarled without even thinking about it. "Zoro's not dead."

"That part of him is," the Alchemist answered quietly, with such a matter-of-fact tone that it didn't even sound like a taunt or an attempt to brag. The man considered it fact, plain and simple.

That infuriated Sanji all the more, to see anyone talking about his nakama like that. With loathing still saturating his voice, he hissed, "Brook. We'll double-team this shitty bastard. He might know our individual skills, but let's see him take us both at the same time."

Brook nodded in grim agreement, and one bony hand tightened firmly on his cane sword. Both of them began to dart forward, already moving in unison—Sanji figured he could launch Brook into the air for that ariel diving move, then attack the man himself to keep him in place long enough for Brook's attack to hit. But before either of them had taken five steps, the Alchemist slid backwards himself, moving with surprising ease even though his eyes never left either of his opponents.

And pressed his booted foot straight down on the still-unconscious Zoro's throat.

Both Sanji and Brook froze instantly, Sanji with a series of colorful swears. The cook could have kicked himself for forgetting how close the Alchemist was to their two knocked-out, endangered nakama. He'd been seeing red, so focused on the man he hadn't paid attention to his surroundings. Now he was going to pay for that mistake—or more likely, his friends were.

The Alchemist stood resolutely, calmly, knowing his threat had been acknowledged. He kept his right foot planted firmly on Zoro's neck, enough to elicit a choking gurgle from the emaciated swordsman even in his unconscious state. Most of the Hunter's weight was balanced on his left foot, but Sanji knew it would be all too easy for the man to shift and crush Zoro's throat in less than a heartbeat. And in his left hand, his knife was still firmly clenched; it dripped Sanji's blood down onto Usopp's unmoving body, staining his overalls a deeper brown.

Shit. Not good. This was not good at all...

"What do we do, Sanji-san?" Brook whispered, and there was no doubting he was nervous now. His bony fingers clacked loudly on the lacquered purple surface of the cane's hook, what served as his sword hilt, as his body trembled. "He'll be able to make the first move...but if we attack..."

"Can't attack," Sanji said grimly. "They'll die. Or worse. Can't risk it." He cursed himself over and over, but kept his feet planted, did not move forward any further. Damn it, he had to think, _think_...Zoro and Usopp needed him, but if he stayed frozen like this the man was going to escape with both of them...

Try as he might, he simply could not think of a solution. His head spun with frustration, with fury, as he tried to think of some course of action.

"Please drop your sword, Humming Brook," the Alchemist said now, very firmly. "Black Leg Sanji, unfortunately I can't disarm you, but I would think it best if you removed your shoes and—"

He was interrupted suddenly, and Sanji's decision was abruptly stolen from him, just like before. The stalemate was pressing, powerful, but it was shattered by a sharp call from over the side of the ship. "Sanji-kun! Brook! Throw the rope ladder down, hurry! I've got Luffy, but he's heavy, I can't hold him up for too long—"

_Nami-san!_ And she had Luffy, too. Much as Sanji was loath to let her enter the fight with such a dangerous adversary, he had to admit they could use all the backup they could get against this bastard. If Nami-san could just revive Luffy enough to let him get into the battle—

Sanji exchanged quick looks with Brook, and the skeletal swordsman nodded in understanding, reading the message in Sanji's one visible eye as easily as if it had been written. They only had one chance to make this work, and it had to be done fast.

So as Nami-san made another plea for someone to let down the rope ladder, Brook turned abruptly—and bolted for the side of the ship.

The Alchemist was after him instantly, and it made Sanji's heart lighten for a fraction of a second to see the man so determined to keep them separated. Obviously, he considered both Nami-san and Luffy threats, meaning he might actually be afraid of entering combat with the four of them evenly. The man bore down on Brook with stunning speed—though much slower than before, Sanji noted grimly; his Cheetah Essence or whatever the hell it was must be wearing off—but the skeleton ignored him completely, focused on getting to the side of the ship.

And Sanji met them in the middle, launching a roundhouse kick straight at the Alchemist's face.

The man was good, Sanji thought grimly, as he dodged the blow, bending so far over backward it was like he was playing limbo. But Sanji was good too, and nodded in satisfaction as the man's charge after Brook was halted. Spinning quickly, the cook changed his momentum, brought his heel smashing down towards the Alchemist with a resounding call of "_Épaule!"_

Sanji saw, for the briefest of moments, a flicker in that unforgivable bastard's eyes. Saw his lips moving, almost as though he were reciting something, running through a list. It was a waste of time; Sanji was sure he would connect, even if the man had prior knowledge of this move—

But Sanji had no such luck. The man's eyes glinted in sudden recognition, and then he rolled forward at the last possible second. Sanji's heel connected solidly with the grassy deck hard enough to send dirt clods flying. Had he not been so intent on the battle he would have winced; Franky was sure to lecture his ears off later, when they found him again. But it wasn't important now. Because the Alchemist had already rolled to his feet, had launched himself once again at Brook, and although his enhanced speed had worn off for sure by now he had still recovered too quickly for Sanji to react.

The cook swore loudly and charged after him again, launching another kick at the man's back. The Alchemist leapt into the air, nimbly dodging Sanji's flying foot, and reached once again into his coat pockets. For one horrible moment Sanji thought he might remove another flask with the speed potion in it, but it wasn't a vial of any sort at all that the Alchemist pulled free from the inside of his coat. It was a thin chain with twisted links that seemed almost organic. The chain was mostly silvery in color, but every fourth link was tainted a gray-blue and looked to be of a different material entirely.

Sanji realized the properties of the item suddenly, but too late. He tried to shout a warning to Brook, but by then the Alchemist had landed back on the deck and lashed the chain nimbly, like a whip. It cracked against Brook's skeletal hand, the one holding his sword, and with a sharp yelp the musician dropped the weapon; it clattered once on the _Sunny's_ railings before tumbling over the side.

Sanji heard a shriek of surprise from Nami-san, or maybe it was pain. He didn't know, but he desperately hoped she was alright. Even without being wielded, and even without the same fanatical devotion to his swords that Zoro had, Brook's weapon was still quite sharp and was more than capable of impaling somebody by accident. Furious, he launched another succession of kicks at the Alchemist, but the man ducked beneath them and, with another expert lash, wound the seastone-infused chain around Brook's incredibly thin frame.

By itself, the twisted chain looked weak enough for Sanji to shatter with his heel. Under normal circumstances even Brook would have been able to free himself from it easily. But with every fourth link being made of seastone, there was no question about it: Brook had been caught. The skeletal swordsman gave a soft groan and tottered, collapsing where he stood at the edge of the rail, flopped half over it and half on the deck. The rope ladder still lay rolled at his feet on the grass.

"And then there was one," the Alchemist said cooly, and turned on Sanji once again.

_Shit._

* * *

Hrm...now the question is, will I let Sanji win a fight this time...what, you all thought Luffy'd be the ass kicker? In a fic where it's been Sanji's voice up until now? No way, no way! :)

Honestly, were I an_ actual_ villain in _One Piece_, this is probably the general strategy I'd use to take on the Straw Hats. Splitting them up, that is. _One Piece_ villains are kinda stupid in that they always seem to think they can bull straight through the Straw Hats with raw power. It will never happen. If they're united (even a single pair of them) they will thoroughly trash you, both because they have good combat teamwork and because they are dangerously loyal to each other. But if you split'em up and start dividing their minds over who to protect, you might maybe possibly have a shot. Maaaaybe.

(Of course, were I an actual villain, I wouldn't even have to bother worrying about Sanji. Lucky me, I was born female. :P )

It occurs to me you may all just lynch me anyway. Well, keep the angry mobs to a minimum in your reviews, please. :)

~VelkynKarma


	15. Trial by Alchemy

**Mindshattered**

Part fifteen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Apologies:** My sincerest apologies for a nearly two day late update! I totally forgot I had to work pretty much all day yesterday. Oops. And then almost right when I sat down to start editing this chapter before I posted it, they called me in for another afternoon of work. Buuuuh.  
**Which brings me to an equally unfortunate bit of news:** the next (and last) chapter is probably going to be at least a week in updating :( It's the holiday season, so my work hours are going up like woah. But don't worry; this fic is 100% guaranteed to be finished!

**Music Box, Part Two: **This fight was written with copious amounts of this song:  
www (dot) youtube (dot) com (slash) watch?v=3ZUGLqO57JQ&feature=related  
**Which basically follows the flow of the fight! **And is badass. Give it a listen while you read. I don't think you'll be disappointed. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"That's the remarkable thing about life. No matter how bad it gets, it can always get worse."

~Calvin

* * *

Sanji knew, _knew_, without a drop of doubt, that he was in deep trouble now. The Alchemist had effortlessly cut them down in a four-on-one scenario, kept his cool and used his strategies ruthlessly and efficiently. The only wound he had to show for it was a single cut on his face, and a shallow one that had already stopped bleeding at that. By contrast, Sanji had already taken over a dozen hits, some of which were still bleeding, and now had absolutely no one to back him up in battle. The man was armed with countless details regarding his fighting style, while Sanji still knew next to nothing about him. Not good odds.

On the bright side, the man was no longer in possession of hostages. Sanji was firmly planted between the Alchemist, Zoro and Usopp. It probably wasn't the safest place to be standing at the moment, but it was infinitely preferable to either of the two in the bastard's grip. Nami-san and Luffy weren't exactly safe in the water, but at least they were in a position where they could escape if they had to. If it came to it, he could kick Brook overboard as well, tell them to run for it. The skeleton was pretty light, so Nami-san should be able to drag him away in the water, too.

It also meant that he could go full-out in combat, now that he didn't have to worry about the man pulling dirty tricks or threatening the lives of his nakama. And he _needed_ to use everything he had now, as fast as he could. The longer this fight drew out, the more dangerous the situation was going to get, and the more exhausted Sanji was going to grow.

He hated playing his aces early, but better too early than too late. Narrowing his one visible eye murderously in the Alchemist's direction, he began spinning rapidly in place, feeling the heat rising and cycling swiftly down to his right foot, the less injured of the two. He'd been practicing trying to ignite _both_ legs for a double-powered _Diable Jambe,_ but hadn't been successful yet. The one would just have to do; at least he'd learned to make it last much longer, could take more hits with it now before it started hurting him.

His foot ignited with a crackle, and he could feel the burn all the way up his body; incredibly intense, but causing him no pain, only making his blood rush even faster with the vicious excitement of it all. Could feel the confidence, the raw power, bubbling through him as well. The bastard might know how to counter basic martial arts, but fire was still lethal, to be respected, and it was his to command now. This bastard was _not_ taking his nakama from him, hell no.

He glared across at the man as he lifted his leg, prepared his first attack. The Alchemist did not look afraid, or even startled, at the sight of his opponent's body suddenly partly aflame. Even if he _had_ picked Zoro's brain for information about _Diable Jambe_, the bastard still had one hell of a poker face.

"Roronoa warned me about this," the man said cooly, by way of explanation, and Sanji wanted to rip him apart right then and there for making it sound like Zoro had done it _willingly_. Shitty bastard. "That flaming leg attack powers up your moves considerably," he added analytically, and calmly reached into his coat pocket once again.

Sanji wasn't going to give him the chance to grab any more of those shitty potions if he could help it, however. He launched himself forward, considerably faster than before, and swung out with his burning leg, roaring wordlessly.

He expected the man to dodge. Certainly that would be the intelligent thing to do; not only was Sanji's kick physically more powerful, but it would incinerate almost anything it came into contact with as well. The Alchemist had to know that, from his interrogations of Zoro. But the man did not dodge. Instead, he pulled he sleeve of his jacket back quickly on one arm and raised his hand defensively, as though he was trying to shield his face.

It was a direct hit, so perfect Sanji could not have hoped for better. He was stunned by the man's reaction. Maybe the Alchemist had panicked under fire (literally) and lost control, or maybe he simply hadn't comprehended how powerful _Diable Jambe_ was. Either way, Sanji felt vicious satisfaction as his heel dug deeper into the man's skin, waited patiently for the devastating snap of bone, for the skin to come alive with fire, start flaying back as the fat beneath began to pop and hiss and melt away—

It didn't happen.

Sanji had thought himself surprised before, when the man refused to dodge, but that shock was magnified ten times now as he discovered his devil-leg was ineffective. The Alchemist lashed out with a retaliatory swipe of his knife, and Sanji managed to recover enough to jerk his head back, send himself reeling to the grassy floor. The knife slashed across his chest, tore his shirt and his suit jacket and cut into flesh, but it was shallow and probably wouldn't even scar. He grimaced, hit the ground with a grunt, and rolled quickly to his feet, immediately taking a defensive stance.

What the hell happened? Why hadn't his attack _worked?_

"I drank an Iceblood Potion, of my own design," the Alchemist explained cooly. The man was regarding him quietly, and had obviously sensed his confusion.

"You didn't drink anything," Sanji snarled. "I stopped you just now, before you got anything out of your coat."

"You are quite correct. I was warned that your fire-leg increased your speed, but I am ashamed to say I underestimated how much. I did not have time to use the attack potion I planned to use." He nodded to Sanji, acknowledgement of his opponent's skills. Sanji glared hatefully back at him.

"But I did not drink the Iceblood Potion in combat," the Alchemist continued. "Defensive bodily enhancement potions, such as Iceblood and Steelskin, require at_ least_ five minutes to take effect in full. Nor can they be mixed, which is why I was forced to choose," he added with a sigh, and ran one hand over the cut on his face. "I drank it just before I began this engagement and captured my first two bounties from your crew. Iceblood potions were originally commissioned by the Marines; they asked me to design an enhancement to protect soldiers from explosives and heat-based Devil Fruit abilities. But after learning of your fire-leg ability, I decided it was easily applicable to that, as well."

Sanji did his best to school his expression, but he was swearing up a storm inside his mind. His most powerful attack, the one chance he had at beating this bastard, and the man had negated its most dangerous properties. His skin where Sanji's burning foot had connected with it wasn't even singed. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

_Focus,_ he told himself sharply. So the explosive properties of _Diable Jambe_ were useless. That didn't mean he'd lost his chance. It also enhanced his strength and speed significantly. He could still overpower the man with rapid-fire attacks. The Alchemist had himself admitted that he'd underestimated Sanji's speed. He still had a shot.

Reinvigorated, Sanji narrowed his eyes and leapt into the air. _"Frit Assorti!" _he shouted, and three rapid kicks sent spiraling flames in the direction of the unforgivable bastard. They would be negated by the shitty Iceblood potion the bastard was using, but it would also block his vision for a few precious seconds.

Sure enough, the Alchemist was forced to squint against the sudden burst of light that assailed his senses; the Iceblood might protect him against heat, but brightness was another thing altogether. Sanji landed, followed in the wake of the flames—he could feel the heat of them as well, but they originated from his own furious passions and could not burn him, either—and used the momentum to leap once more within range of his opponent, screaming, _"Extra Haché!"_

The barrage of rapid-fire kicks were furious, contained all of Sanji's hatred for his opponent, and were so fast the common eye would not have been able to follow them. The cook could feel each kick connect solidly with flesh, felt the burst of flames released even though he knew they would not affect his enemy, felt furious satisfaction as he felt his opponent slide back one inch, two, under his livid assault.

But when the smoke and the flames cleared, Sanji's heart plummeted to his stomach. He was still attacking rapidly, but his attacks were only connecting with the man's arms, crossed defensively in front of him, and while they were bruising rapidly under the assault the man did not seem to be afraid or in pain. And then, before Sanji could so much as yell in surprise, one of those arms snapped out suddenly and wrapped firmly around his flaming ankle.

_Diable Jambe _hissed alarmingly as those ice-infused fingers grabbed a firm hold. Sanji knew a warning when he saw one, tried to twist out of the man's grip and regain some measure of defense. But the man's grip was firm, and he wrenched his arm suddenly, slamming Sanji down into the grassy deck at the Alchemist's feet.

Sanji saw stars as he bounced against the deck, gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of him. But he didn't have time to try and recover. The Alchemist's knife came out of nowhere, slashing down towards the cook's stomach with frightful accuracy, and Sanji knew if it hit the battle was over; that four of his nakama were going to suffer in hell before dying, that a fifth was going to be sent back to it.

_No. _He wouldn't let it happen.

He kicked his legs upward quickly, used the momentum to flip himself backwards into a handstand. He missed the Alchemist's face with the kick, much to his disappointment, but this one wasn't about attacking—it was about escaping. The knife slammed down into the grassy deck, and the Adam's wood beneath, straight up to the hilt exactly where Sanji's stomach had been a moment before, and he barely suppressed a gulp as he flipped himself completely to his feet.

"Commendable," the Alchemist said, as he drew his blade free from the deck. "You really are as persistent as Roronoa."

"Yeah," Sanji snarled back, "I'm a real trooper." He glared across at the man, unable to hold his usual suave combat style in the face of such a monster, but was at least able to conceal his inner thoughts. Those were a wreck. He could feel that _Diable Jambe's _temperature had dropped considerably, not enough to force it to fizzle out, but certainly enough to be worrisome. He wasn't sure how long it would last now, especially if the bastard could shorten its duration with his stupid Iceblood potion.

He had to attack while he was still able. _Diable Jambe _still provided him his only edge. If he hadn't gained an advantage by the time it went out, he and his nakama were as good as dead. With grim determination he threw himself forward again, decided to gamble all his power on one finishing move; even if the fire died, the force behind it would hopefully still do some serious damage. _"Flambage Shot!_"

The move connected solidly with the Alchemist's side, sending his longcoat aflame. The man grunted as he skidded several inches from the force of the blow, and for one moment Sanji thought he'd been successful.

But then the man's hands, both of them this time, came up to clamp his flaming leg with such crushing force that Sanji actually screamed, could feel his bones bending under the pressure, coming close to the point of breaking. _Diable Jambe _fizzled weakly, and the blaze of heat receded into trailing smoke, like a campfire after a bucket of water had been tossed over it.

The man nodded in satisfaction. One hand still gripped Sanji's leg with mind-blinding force; the second sheathed his knife and came spinning around with a brutal, forceful punch to the cook's chest.

Sanji felt the breath knocked from his body once again, and though he wanted to scream once more he didn't even have the air left to do it. He felt a twisting pressure on his leg, and then suddenly it was released, and he was flying through the air. He thought he caught a glimpse of Zoro and Usopp, still lying prone and unmoving, as he shot past them; then he was smashing into the _Sunny's _railings with brutal force.

Pain exploded across his every sense as he suddenly registered what had happened. His back had smashed into the hard wood of the railing, and the back of his head as well, sending nauseating, rolling waves of agony throughout his stomach and chest and causing his limbs to tremble. Stars danced before his eyes, so bright they burned his vision, his ears were ringing, he could smell blood, and hell, at this point he could even _taste _pain. Moaning involuntarily, he realized he was laying on his side and curled up before he could stop himself, trying to alleviate some of that torment.

He became aware of screaming, and realized seconds later that it was his own mind, his own instincts, threatening, _begging_ him to get up and run. The enemy was coming closer, his mind shrieked; if the man caught him he would die, no, he would be _worse _than dead, he'd be as good as stuck on that hellhole of a rock again waiting to die, unable to save himself...

He groaned again, but struggled to rise, to obey his wailing instincts. It was much more difficult than he imagined it would be. His head swam every time he moved, and his arms were trembling so badly he could barely support his own weight. Through excruciating effort he managed to drag himself to his hands and knees, but his whole world lurched violently to the right, and his vision couldn't seem to catch up with the rest of his body.

_Move, damn it all, move!_ He screamed at himself, shook his head rapidly to try and clear it, winced as it made everything worse.

And then the shadow fell over him.

"A most excellent fight," the Alchemist said cooly, and Sanji shakily tried to force his shuddering legs to take his weight, tried to raise his head to view the man (not even on fire anymore; the longcoat had been patted out, damn it). Just a few more seconds, just a few more and he knew he could recover his senses, but he knew he didn't have it now, knew he was as good as dead, worse than dead—

"Roronoa informed me that you once worked on the Baratie," the Alchemist said, as he brought his knife to bear. "Run by the former pirate Red-Leg Zeff. Red-Leg's bounty is still active, I believe...Roronoa was unable to give me directions to the ship, but I am sure you will be able to provide me with the information."

No. No, no,_ no,_ this was _not_ happening. He wouldn't talk about the crap geezer, no fucking_ way_, no way in hell, not if it killed him. But unbidden, the dark, dead look in Zoro's eyes as he talked about the secrets stripped from him came to mind, and he knew with a sudden stark horror that if the man asked it, he _would_ talk, eventually.

_No. No! _Sanji struggled frantically to come to his feet again, threw one hand up and over the railings to try and pull himself up, but he was too slow, too late. The Alchemist stepped forward, knife raised.

And abruptly fell forward, landing on his face as he unexpectedly tripped.

It startled him enough to give him another shot of adrenaline, and Sanji managed to stagger backwards to his feet, though he was still leaning heavily on the railing and hadn't quite regained his balance. Shaking badly, his eye swept the area, looking for whatever had caused the unexpected mishap.

Zoro stared tiredly back at him, and one arm was outstretched, wrapped firmly around the Alchemist's booted ankle.

The swordsman looked terrible. His chest was heaving wildly from even this little amount of exertion, and his emaciated limbs were trembling so badly it was a wonder he'd managed to find the strength to trip the Alchemist at all. He'd managed to roll himself onto his stomach at least, and though he could barely lift his head he still managed to meet Sanji's eyes.

And Sanji could read the message there, in the blend of fear, hopelessness, and enraged determination. _Run. Run while you can._

The Alchemist was recovering now, and glanced over his shoulder in mild surprise to see what had caught him. He blinked when his eyes met Zoro's, cocked his head almost quizzically, and murmured, "Resilient." Then he jerked his ankle up, snapping it free from Zoro's trembling, weak grip with a pained groan from the swordsman—and smashed his booted heel straight into the emaciated man's face.

Sanji yelled in protest, in rage, but the Alchemist ignored him. He brought his foot up a second time, a third, and connected solidly with Zoro's face twice more. It had hardly been necessary; Zoro had gone completely limp after the first blow, fingers twitching, and the second and third only caused a pool of blood to begin forming under the man's head.

Sanji swore.

But Zoro had bought him time, and while the Alchemist had recovered, was now climbing to his feet, Sanji had too. He stood firmly as the last of the blinding stars dissipated before his eyes and planted his feet firmly, ready for the attack.

This time it was the Alchemist who went on the offensive first. He launched himself forward quickly, and once again Sanji threw himself to the side with an expert dodge. He didn't want to think about attacking at this point; for now, he just had to lead the destructive, psychopathic man away from Zoro and Usopp before either one was caught in the crossfire again.

So he dodged again, and again, feeling the wind as deadly punches slashed past him, felt the nicks and gashes as the Alchemist's knife dug into his arms and legs, just barely. Dodged and dodged, taunted him further away from the unconscious forms on the ship, scrambled slowly up the stairs as he tried to think of a safer place to fight, and hoped desperately that the Alchemist could still be set up for an attack.

Halfway up the stairs he launched his plan into motion. He'd fallen into a rhythm of avoidance, of passive defense, but now he thew himself into a sudden aggressive assault. _"Mouton Shot!"_ he roared, and leapt into the air, using his higher ground on the stairs to his advantage.

"That one, the swordsman _did_ know the name of," was the Alchemist's only reply, and he twisted quickly. The kick merely grazed him, and he snapped his hands firmly around Sanji's leg once again. The cook felt the same blinding pressure as before, and then he was flying again, slamming painfully into the swinging, half-open door of his own kitchen.

The door, unlike the_ Sunny's_ railings, gave under his sudden an unexpected collide with it. It snapped off its hinges, and Sanji inwardly winced at the damage done to _his_ kitchen. At the same time it was a blessing in disguise, and Sanji was able to roll to his feet quickly; getting thrown that time hadn't hurt nearly as much.

The Alchemist appeared in the now doorless doorway, and Sanji scrambled to the left, wincing as he put pressure on his right leg—the one the man had grabbed twice now. The man lunged at him, and he threw himself sideways hastily, hitting the table and sliding along its surface as the tablecloth slipped beneath him. He heard half a dozen objects shattering as the table settings he'd prepared for that night's dinner—already feeling an age ago—crashed to the floor.

_Outrageous,_ his mind screamed at him. _Fucking outrageous. The kitchen is just as sacred as the food it's made to prepare. You don't fight here. Ever!_

Unfortunately, there was no way to take the fight back outside. The Alchemist was blocking the door, regarding him cooly as he brought his knife around once more and paced forward. "You are getting tired. You were limping a moment ago. It seems your reserves are quite large, but not limitless. You really _are_ very much like Roronoa."

"Rather be like him than you," Sanji quipped, and dodged hastily as the man slashed at him again with his knife. He heard more tableware shattering, and cursed out loud. Still no chance of getting back out the door, and his options were fast becoming limited. With a furious grimace he leapt into another dodge, rolled over the counter, winced as the sink head dug into his hip, and crashed to the tiled floor of his personal cooking section of the kitchen.

He could hear crunching as the Alchemist stepped on shattered plates and glasses, and the cook part of his mind was fairly shrieking in outrage now. He tried to calm down long enough to consider his options. He had maybe ten seconds until the man came around the corner and saw him crouching on the tiled floor, and he had to have a solution by then. The man had boxed him into a corner with his back against his refrigerator, and if he didn't come up with _something _he was dead. His eyes roved anxiously, vision sharpened by the twisting mix of outrage and fear that was fueling his senses.

The Alchemist slipped around the kitchen counter that divided the cooking tools from the serving room and regarded Sanji with great interest. "It is bewildering how you continue to fight," the man commented.

"It's human nature," Sanji snapped back, and threw out a defensive kick automatically as he rose to his feet. The Alchemist dodged easily, and his retaliatory punch shoved Sanji back against the cold metal exterior of the fridge, caused the lock to dig into his back. He grunted in annoyance.

"So it may be, but your stubbornness will not help you here," the Alchemist observed cooly. "There is nothing you can use against me that I cannot block or redirect at you. Everything Roronoa Zoro knows about you—everything he even _thinks_ he knows about you—is knowledge that I have as well, and I have the appropriate means to counter all of them."

"Everything about me, huh?" Sanji gasped, realized suddenly that he was panting, _had_ been for some time from the exertion. His mind flashed back briefly to the extended list that Zoro himself had made for him, when Sanji had finally dragged the story out of him.

"That is correct." The Alchemist watched him patiently, waiting for him to admit, as they both knew, that Sanji was outmatched.

But Sanji was not one to admit defeat so easily, especially not when his nakama were on the line. He narrowed his eyes, glared at the Alchemist, and said, "Guess I'll just have to think outside the box, then."

He threw himself forward, dropped his hands and shifted his weight just like he would when he was about to throw himself into one of his handstand-driven attacks. The Alchemist had yet to see him use one of these, and was thrown off guard, leaping backwards a pace and raising his hand and knife defensively, at the ready.

Ready for a full-out spinning, kicking assault, at least. However he had planned to counter that maneuver, it would do him no good now. His one visible eye still burning fiercely, Sanji halted his momentum last minute, twisted to one side—and plunged his hand over and into his knife rack.

He couldn't see what he was doing, but it didn't matter. He knew each and every knife by feel, could tell anyone who asked exactly which one was which with his eyes closed. The six-inch Tosagata Hocho Chef's knife practically jumped into his hand, and the hard kitchen lights gleamed off its blue-gray blade. It was no katana, but Sanji kept his kitchenware in excellent repair. And the Tosagata was already renowned for deadly sharpness, something only expert cooks would dare to use.

He lashed out with it furiously. The attack was uncoordinated at best, nothing like the trained skill and subtle movements both Zoro and Brook were capable of using. Sanji hadn't trained with knives for combat, after all, but for cooking. But it didn't matter, because the knife dug startlingly deep into the Alchemist's chest all the same, trailing a six inch slash horizontally across the man's flesh and sending spots of blood dripping all over the stove and the pot of stew still waiting there from dinner's preparations. Sanji inwardly swore; no good to eat that anymore. What a waste.

The Alchemist screamed in pain and stumbled back, eyes wide. It was the first real emotion Sanji had seen in the man: absolute shock. "This is against all reports!" he screeched, and his hand, the one without his own combat knife, pressed trembling against his wound. "Roronoa insisted you would never use weaponry, not even to save your life!"

"My life, sure," Sanji answered, and his other hand flashed as he retrieved a second knife from the rack; this one was smaller, finer, better for more precise cuts in the kitchen—or in combat. "But I've got eight other peoples' lives riding on this fight, and I'll do whatever the hell I have to to keep them away from you." And he threw himself forward again.

The man's eyes widened further, if that was even possible, and his hand plunged into his coat again, presumably to pull free some other battle elixir. Sanji would have none of that. Dual-wielding his kitchen knives in combat felt a little awkward, but he found that as soon as he started thinking of the Alchemist as little more than a big fish, his hands worked with sudden and fluid ease, cutting and thrusting with savage familiarity.

The Alchemist tried to defend, but the shock of his carefully harvested facts being _wrong_ seemed to have broken his cool facade, and he couldn't recover. Sanji forced him back, slashing the imaginary fish with brutal accuracy, and the man screamed again as more and more gashes were opened up in his arms, his legs, his chest, his stomach. Blood was getting everywhere now, spattering the cabinets and the counters and the clean tiled floor, and that only heightened the cook's rage all the more.

And then suddenly he was out of Sanji's kitchen area, and fully in line with the door. Whirling suddenly, Sanji snarled, "You're making a mess. Get the hell out of my kitchen!" and struck him with a savage kick to the side. The Alchemist went rocketing out of the galley, through the door, and over the railing, before smashing to the grassy deck below.

Sanji hesitated for only moments, long enough to drop his precious knives, now coated with red, into the sink. They would need a thorough cleaning later, but no use causing more of a mess than there already was. Still, seeing the blood enraged him all over again, and he vaulted the mess of tableware still scattered all over the hardwood floor of the dining section and charged out the door.

He leapt the railing, came sailing down with another furious kick to the Alchemist, who was just staggering to his feet. The man crashed down to the deck again, and Sanji was on him once more, kicking with such fury-fueled speed that even the attack names began to blend together into one. It couldn't be more than five minutes in reality, but for Sanji it lasted hours, and when he was done the Alchemist lay in a bloodied, bruised mess on the grassy deck.

Sanji came to himself suddenly, realized he was panting hard, shoulders heaving as he glared down at the unforgivable bastard at his feet. The man wasn't going anywhere. Still alive, unfortunately; he could see the faint rise and fall of the man's chest as he breathed, but he didn't deserve it. Looking around at his beaten, hurting nakama on the deck, or thinking of Zoro's horrific story, was more than enough to tell him that. The bastard had to die. He glowered, lit a cigarette, considered the bastard contemplatively, and then slowly lifted his heel for the final strike that would shatter the man's skull.

"_Sanji-kun! Sanji-kun!_ Are you alright? What's going on up there? Are you still _alive?_"

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. The fury that had encompassed his entire body dissipated rapidly, and he remembered suddenly that Nami-san was still in the water, and probably struggling by now to keep Luffy up.

He gave the Alchemist one last glance, but the man wasn't going anywhere anymore, and Sanji was confident he could handle the bastard anyway now even if he did get up. Satisfied, he darted over to the side of the ship that Nami-san would be on, and threw the rope ladder still next to the semi-conscious Brook over the side quickly.

"My deepest apologies, Nami-san!" he fairly crooned, as he hastily clambered over the side to take her burden—namely, their captain—from her so she could climb up herself. "I didn't mean to worry you, but I'm so glad you were concerned for your Sanji-kun!"

"It wasn't that, he was getting heavy," Nami-san quipped, and shoved Luffy towards him once he was far enough down to reach. Their captain's eyes were half lidded and rolled back in his head, but he was breathing, and whatever the Alchemist had injected him with didn't appear to be having any adverse effects. Sanji threw him unceremoniously over one shoulder and offered his hand to Nami-san as well to help her up.

She reached out to take it, but froze suddenly and stared. "Sanji-kun," she said slowly, "your hand is covered in blood."

He blinked in surprise, and hastily tried to wipe it clean on his suit jacket (which was destroyed anyway, he thought with a mournful sigh). "My apologies, Nami-san. I truly am a wretch, to nearly sully your hand like that—"

"And you're shaking," Nami-san cut him off, staring at him with a worried expression now. Which was true, now that he thought about it; his limbs were trembling so badly he was actually causing the entire rope ladder to tremor.

"It's nothing, but your concern is most lovely, Nami-san!"

"What are you waiting for, then? Up, go up!" she shouted, and gestured frantically, indicating she would follow. He could do nothing else but obey, and hastily scrambled up. Or perhaps not so hastily, he decided after a moment; moving fast was a bit...difficult, and rather painful, at present.

They reached the deck again, and Sanji tossed Luffy over onto the grass unceremoniously, where the young captain immediately began coughing up a lung. Which meant he was breathing, which meant he'd be fine. Luffy was notoriously resilient, and would probably be bouncing off the walls again within an hour. One down. Sanji moved to help Nami-san over the rail, but hesitated when he noticed his still dirtied hands, and settled for untying the silvery chain from around Brook's skeletal frame after a second of hesitation. The skeleton groaned, but seemed to be recovering rapidly after a moment or two, and thanked Sanji profusely. Nami-san handed the other swordsman his cane-blade—he only noticed now that she had hooked it over one arm for safekeeping all this time—and the musician sheathed it after a quick examination of the weapon.

"Sanji-kun," Nami-san gasped. "What...what _happened?_" And she stared at the prone form of the Alchemist in surprise.

"Nothing," Sanji answered, "He's not a problem, we beat him," and swayed dangerously on his feet.

Damn. He hadn't expected_ that _to happen.

"Go lay down, Sanji-kun," Nami-san ordered sharply. "Anywhere, before you pass out. You're cut up pretty bad, you obviously need medical attention—"

"Can't rest yet," Sanji said, and found himself slurring rather suddenly. Now that the fight was over, it was funny how suddenly all of his injuries came roaring back at him with a vengeance. Actually, not so funny; more like painful. The cigarette dropped from his mouth, smoldered quietly on the grass, and he stared at it curiously until Nami-san stubbed it out.

"Yes you will, now go—"

"Gotta check Zoro first," he grunted. "Got hurt bad in the fight." His lips peeled back in an automatic snarl as he envisioned the unforgivable bastard kicking a starving man three times in the face without an ounce of restraint, saw the pool of blood forming underneath that head. Didn't know if marimo could take that much damage on top of everything that had already happened to him. Could cave his head, snap his neck, damage his mind—

He realized Nami-san was speaking suddenly, felt appalled to realize he hadn't been listening. "—take care of it, Sanji-kun, just _lay down_ before you hurt yourself—"

"Nami-san is lovely when she cares," Sanji muttered hazily, or tried to say at any rate, because language was remarkably tough all of a sudden. "For a minute...I'll just—"

And then his legs buckled beneath him, and he felt the sudden, and not entirely enjoyable, sensation of floating. He thought there was supposed to be an impact somewhere around there as well, but his mind went blank before he ever found it.

* * *

Sanji has too many attacks...FAR too many attacks. Doing the research for this chapter was like drowning in abstract text (wiki text specifically). This is probably one of the reasons I prefer Zoro to Sanji (though I do love them both, really). SLASH SWORD. THINGS DIE. Nice'n simple. As opposed to the billion and a half ways Sanji delivers the same amount of pain in confusing gratuitous french food puns...what? Still don't believe me? Go look up Sanji's Fighting Style on the OP Wiki, I swear the page doesn't _end..._

Also, I don't know much about cooking, or knives, so I looked up some professional grade cooking knives. Holy hell, those things are terrifying. Newfound respect for Sanji, right here. Even if he doesn't use them in combat, I'd still be terrified to use'em, I'm pretty sure I'd lose a finger or three. X_X

**Don't forget to tell me if you listened to the music :)**

You guys know the drill! I like reviews that are thoughtful! :)

~VelkynKarma


	16. Striking the Deal

**Mindshattered**

Part sixteen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Surprise!** So uh...Karma spoke a leeeettle too soon. I had the section of the final chapter to write up, which I did...but then it got long. Like, really long. Like, long enough for me to split in two. **So this is not the last chapter.** Whooo! There's still one more after this. Whooo! I'm so fail for speaking too soon, lol.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down."

~Arnold H. Glasow

* * *

When Sanji came to, he was almost immediately assailed with a number of lightning-fast sensations that told him, on no uncertain terms, that he hurt like hell.

It wasn't just one part of him, either. His entire body pulsed with the sensation of dull pain, and he wondered briefly if maybe Duval had accidentally run him over with that stupid giant bison of his. Certainly_ felt_ like it. Though there were, admittedly, parts of him that demanded more attention than others. His head throbbed with a pounding headache, and his back definitely felt sore, even pressed against something soft as it was—

Wait. Soft?

He groaned slightly as he tried to force his awareness past his own aching limbs, managed to crack his eye open and try to take stock of his current predicament. His vision swam, but the ceiling of the men's room on the _Sunny_ slowly came into focus, and he realized after a moment more of dazed confusion that he must be lying on one of the swinging bunks there. Well. That was a good sign, at least. He found waking up in a place he recognized infinitely preferable to places he didn't.

"Ah, Cook-san. You're awake," came a voice to his right. A heavenly, beautiful voice that he hadn't heard in over two months, one that he recognized all too well, was overjoyed to hear. It sent an electrical shock through his aching limbs, and with a sudden surge of gleeful energy he started to sit up, suppressing a groan of pain because it would be _most_ unmanly to do so—

A dozen arms emerged from either side of the swinging bunk, forced him to lay back down gently but firmly. They were remarkably careful about exactly where they pushed, dodging the sorest parts of his body while still applying the exact pressure necessary to keep him down. He relented with a happy sigh (it would be terrible of him to argue with a woman after all) and contented himself with turning his head instead, saying hoarsely, "Robin-chan! I'm so happy to see you again!"

"It's good to see you _awake_, Cook-san," she answered with amusement. "Doctor-san insisted that you were fine and only needed to rest a little before you would awaken, but you've had several members of the crew quite anxious."

"My deepest apologies, Robin-chan!" Sanji said, with as heartfelt a voice as he could manage considering he could barely manage a croak. "I never meant to worry any of you. Er...how long have I been asleep, anyway?"

"Almost a full day," she answered, still with the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It's only an hour or two until sundown. None of your injuries were terribly severe by themselves, but apparently when combined they became quite taxing." And before Sanji could ask further, she recited calmly, "According to Doctor-san, you received a minor concussion, a stress fracture to your right leg, a sprained back, and a number of superficial cuts and bruises, the worst being the slash across your chest." She smiled at him. "The doctor informs me that particular cut will heal without scarring, so you won't be imitating Swordsman-san."

Sanji scowled reflexively at the comment for half a second before his memories caught up with the rest of him. Then his eyes widened, and he tried to sit up again, suddenly frantic. "Shit! Zoro was hurt bad, that bastard attacked him again—"

"Easy, Cook-san," Robin-chan told him firmly, though her voice sounded as relaxed as ever. Her many hands reappeared and forced him down again, held him in place when he tried to push himself up. "Swordsman-san is fine. He received several head injuries and lost a good deal of blood in the fight with Panaceam, but Navigator-san was able to give him proper medical attention until my...acquaintances...and I arrived a few hours later."

"A few hours...?" Sanji said hazily, and finally relaxed into the hammock, allowing Robin-chan to vanish her hands in a shower of petals a few seconds later. It was reassuring to know that marimo was alive at least (he hadn't been worried, he _definitely_ hadn't shown that he was worried in front of Robin-chan), and that allowed him to calm a little, which hurt considerably less. It also allowed his groggy mind to start whirling. After a few seconds it clicked, and he said in surprise, "But Robin-chan, you would have arrived in the middle of the night!"

"That is correct, Cook-san," she said with an amused smile. "My acquaintances prefer...discretion. They would not have found it if they arrived at the archipelago in broad daylight, if you understand."

Sanji didn't exactly like the thought of that; there weren't many kinds of people that couldn't afford to be seen in the open, and none of the kinds he could think of were good. The thought of his darling Robin-chan being stuck with such hooligans...he shuddered. But then again, he was a pirate, so who was he to judge? As long as they hadn't hurt Robin-chan, or taken advantage of her, or—

"I am fine, Cook-san," Robin-chan said, apparently reading the expressions on his face like a book. "The people I traveled with were dangerous, but trustworthy. They provided a doctor to tend both you and Swordsman-san until they were forced to leave at sunrise, and left instructions on medical care for us. Doctor-san arrived this afternoon, but we could have cared for Swordsman-san and yourself without his help if it was required."

"So Chopper's back?" Sanji confirmed, just in case his aching head was moving a little too slowly to register it the first time.

"He is."

Which was a relief, in a way. If Zoro wasn't dead, and their doctor was back, then he was officially relieved of his own half-assed doctoring duties. After all the trouble he'd seen in the past two weeks, he certainly wouldn't miss those.

"What about Franky?" He asked, noting the last unaccounted for member of the crew in his head.

"We haven't seen him yet," Robin-chan answered, "but judging from some of the reports I've read recently, it probably won't be long."

"And the others are all okay too? Nami-san? Luffy? Brook? Usopp?"

"All sound. Longnose-kun took a nasty hit to the back of the head, but other than a mild concussion and a fierce headache, he is quite fine. No one else received any injuries, though Captain-san is still upset that he wasn't present for the final fight. It seems Panaceam threw him off of the ship, and by the time he and Navigator-san made it back on deck, the battle was already over. There was certainly a good deal of evidence suggesting the battle had ranged all over the ship, and there was an especially large amount of damage in the kitchen, but we were unable to decipher exactly what happened." She gave Sanji a shrewd look, but pointedly said nothing.

Sanji opened his mouth to hastily explain that it really wasn't important, that the man was beaten and that was all that mattered...and then froze. Robin-chan had called the unforgivable bastard_ Panaceam_...but Sanji had never told the rest of the crew the man's name, only his hunter title.

"How did you know—"

"His name?" Robin-chan finished, and gave him a soft smile. "Didn't everyone in the East Blue know Swordsman-san's name? Magnus Panaceam is infamous in this area. Even so, I don't claim to know much about him myself. My acquaintances knew far more, and shared that information with me when they found him unconscious on the _Thousand Sunny_ when we arrived. They took a very keen interest in the man."

"He's unforgivable," Sanji snarled before he could stop himself. Clearly, he thought with disgust a second later, his pounding head and aching body were still playing tricks on him. He would have kicked himself for ever using that tone on Robin-chan otherwise.

But she only nodded quietly in agreement. "Based on some of the things they shared with me, I would have to say I agree. I know little about Panaceam's relationship with Swordsman-san, other than what Navigator-san told me, but it seems this is not the first time he has hunted and turned in nearly-dead bounties for profit. The military has an unusual relationship with him, according to the sources of my acquaintances...it seems they use him to handle less than reputable assignments that would otherwise destroy the marines' image. Panaceam has a military hunting license and is affiliated with them, but the navy can easily hand-wave any destruction he causes by simply stating he is of free mind and ultimately cannot be controlled."

"It's all politics," Sanji said with disgust. "Cowards."

"In more than one sense," Robin-chan said with a quiet nod. "The military is terrified of him." And at Sanji's wide-eyed surprise, she added, "Panaceam's family was...unusual. His mother was a high-ranking officer of the marines, in charge of a prison stationed not too far from the Archipelago. It is no longer active, but at the time it was often used as a point of transfer for prisoners awaiting trial, execution, or re-imprisonment at Impel Down. She was infamous for her merciless treatment of all her prisoners, and her ability to claim any truth from them, no matter how tight-lipped the person. War-prisoners, high-ranking pirates, and deserters were frequently transferred to her prison if it was suspected that they were holding vital information. She was even heard stating that if Gol Roger were given to her, she could rip One Piece from his mind." Robin-chan looked grim now. "But about twelve years ago she was sentenced to treason and executed. She interrogated and killed six marines, none of them bearing sentences or suspicions, without orders. Supposedly she later claimed that they were acting suspicious and it had been her duty to get to the bottom of it, but it's more likely the woman was certifiably insane from her profession, and beginning to suffer from extreme paranoia."

Sanji was stunned. "What the hell...and they let her _kid_ join the military?"

"In point of fact, they did not," Robin-chan corrected smoothly. "The marines were understandably afraid of a revenge drive, and denied Panaceam's application when he tried to enter the navy. Apparently it didn't phase him in the least. His father was obsessed with earning money after his mother was executed and her income was lost. He ordered Panaceam to curry favor with the military and earn their money once more. Panaceam turned to bounty hunting and quickly earned fame for quick and efficient turn-ins, as well as supplying the military with vast amounts of information about their enemies. Over time he earned the military's trust, as well as their wary respect. Panaceam was strong and uncontrollable. They offered him a military hunting license to buy his allegiance and to try and catch hold of some of his strength, before he decided to turn on them after all. He has never shown signs of wanting to."

Sanji felt his stomach flop uncomfortably, and wasn't entirely sure that the nausea was injury-based. "So...this unforgivable bastard was doing all of this to earn money for his _family?_" He couldn't equate that cruelty to any form of love, not even slightly.

"Not at all," Robin-chan answered quietly, and judging by her face, she couldn't either. "His father has been dead for over seven years. If anything, I would hazard to guess that he only acts as he does because he was taught to and always has, without ever bothering to change."

Something about that was utterly sick and twisted, and Sanji couldn't help but shudder even though he wasn't cold.

"Where is he," the cook asked quietly. He suddenly desperately needed confirmation that that twisted, empty, disgusting excuse for a human being was dead and far away and never coming back. He'd faced the man in battle, seen that emptiness and felt that utter terror, and somehow knowing more about the man only heightened the rigid fear of those memories all the more. He didn't know if he could fight the man again, not after expending all his energy, everything he had, and not knowing now what he did.

"He will not trouble us any further," Robin-chan answered smoothly. Her face was shadowed, and for a brief, horrified moment Sanji thought that maybe_ she_ had killed him. She had been an assassin after all, and much as he hated the thought of her dirtying her lovely hands with that unforgivable bastard's blood, he knew she was fully capable of dealing with the man. Especially in the state he'd left the Alchemist in.

But again, she seemed to guess at his thoughts, and shook her head. "After learning everything I did of Panaceam, I certainly would have been willing to ensure that he would not hurt our nakama anymore," she admitted. "But my acquaintances requested the man as...a gift...for the services offered." And at Sanji's confused look, she added, "They are no friends of the World Government, or the military. Panaceam has been affiliated with the navy for years, and is well known for his obsession with knowledge, especially regarding all parties he interacts with. If they can learn even one tenth of the sensitive knowledge Panaceam has stored away in his mind, their own goals will be that much closer."

It was delicately said, but Sanji was no fool, and picked up on the undercurrents of what Robin-chan had just admitted to. These 'acquaintances' of hers, whoever they might be, wanted to pick the Alchemist's mind for secret or highly sensitive information regarding the military, or anything else even remotely related. And they would probably do it by any means necessary.

It sent a burning twist through Sanji's stomach, an electrical pulse through his whole body that left him feeling viciously ugly, but at the same time, maliciously satisfied. There was something deeply fulfilling about karmic retribution. And he knew, despite Robin-chan's calm words, that the Alchemist was about to pay dearly for everything he'd ever done to Zoro, and the hundreds of other nameless souls he'd tortured over the years.

_You reap what you sow, you damn bastard,_ he thought grimly, and even his mental voice burned with furious vengeance. _And it might just reap you...but hopefully not before you get what's coming to you._

The sensation burned surprisingly hot within him, and when it finally faded it left him oddly exhausted. He hadn't been awake for long, hadn't even done anything besides try and sit up a few times and talk, but he felt like he'd run a dozen miles and fought the Alchemist all over again on top of it. Before he could stop himself, he yawned.

Robin-chan seemed to smirk every so slightly in amusement, and then spoke. "My apologies, Cook-san. You are probably not ready for much excitement yet. Perhaps you should go back to sleep? I will inform the others that you woke up and are fine, if you like."

"You're so thoughtful, Robin-chan," Sanji said, his voice slurred as sleep began to rip at his consciousness. There was something else there too, though, something tapping insistently, something overriding his otherwise satisfied mind at the news he had received—

It hit him suddenly, and he spoke up quickly, before sleep could overtake him. "The others...d'they know about the Alchemist?"

Robin-chan shook her head. "I wasn't familiar with everything that has happened yet, and decided discretion might be safer. No one is aware of how the final battle with the man ended. And it seems only Cook-san knows about what happened to Swordsman-san in full." Though judging from her now stern expression, it was clear she could infer from her knowledge of the Alchemist and Zoro's obviously unhealthy condition exactly what _had_ happened. Robin-chan was brilliant, after all.

But even though he loved her brilliance, he had a promise to keep. So he fought off the heavy fingers of sleep for a few more seconds, and said hazily, "Don't tell'm. Not yet. Promised Zoro..."

"Of course, Cook-san. I will leave the final decision to you." He heard a rustle of cloth as she stood, and heard her voice offer a quiet _good night._ But at her reassurance his mind finally gave in to the rest he so obviously needed, and everything after that was completely and utterly silent.

* * *

Sanji spent the next few days confined to bed under the doctor's orders. Since Zoro still occupied the only cot in the infirmary, it meant the cook spent far more time than he'd ever wanted to in the men's quarters, usually switching between his bunk and the couch for a change of scenery. It made him restless as hell, and he seriously considered pulling a Zoro on a number of occasions and just leaving, but stopped himself by sheer force of will. Chopper probably had enough on his plate dealing with Zoro as it was; it'd be unfair to add to his workload by causing more problems.

Still, when Chopper finally gave him the all-clear to move several days later, even he was surprised at how fast he zipped out of the room. The little reindeer had sternly made him promise to take it easy for the next few weeks, and expressly forbade him from entering any fights or using his stress-fractured leg for major work, which Sanji had agreed to quickly if only to escape. Hopefully he wouldn't _need_ to fight, though he'd still do it if he had to. They couldn't exactly afford to have only Luffy left from their trio of combatants, after all. He was sore as hell, his back felt like crap, and his leg started to twinge painfully if he walked around on it for too long, but he was sure he could still deliver a few damaging kicks if he avoided handstands and used his left leg as his primary one.

Well, no use thinking about that for now. There was no point worrying over a potential fight if it never actually came, and Sanji had more immediate concerns on his mind.

His first stop was his kitchen. When he'd last seen it, it had been a mess, with the tablecloth bloodied and ruined and most of his dishes and glasses shattered all along the floor. Not to mention the blood splatters from where he'd countered that unforgivable bastard's assault. But the unorganized chaos was gone when he approached his little domain on the ship. The door had been removed, and somebody—probably Usopp—had done a rough patch job on the frame until Franky returned and could install a new door and fix everything properly. The mess inside had been cleaned up, the shards of dish ware swept away and disposed of, and the blood scrubbed from the walls. When he cracked open the cabinets new dishes had been neatly stacked inside, and examining his knife rack found both his weapons of choice neatly and expertly cleaned, sterilized, and replaced. It was like a fight had never happened here.

It was more than a little creepy, to think the entire incident had already been essentially erased. At the same time, he was happy to see his kitchen in order again, expertly cleaned and maintained after that bastard had dragged the battle in here. He growled low in his throat, suppressed the flash of hatred in his mind with the cold sense of righteousness as he remembered just where the man was now. No good dwelling on it. It was over.

He left the kitchen intending to check the other areas on the ship, see if he could find any trace of the battle. What he hadn't expected (but in retrospect, really should have) was that he'd be swarmed by half a dozen enthusiastic and highly curious crew members. They'd all come to visit him a number of times while Chopper had confined him to bed, but the reindeer had expressly forbidden discussing the Alchemist's attack, figuring it would be too stressful on his patient. Now that he was no longer a patient, they wanted answers—some more badly than others. Usopp and Luffy practically threw themselves on him, which had caused him to overbalance on his bad leg and crash to the deck; and once Chopper finished lecturing them in 'doctor-mode' even he began begging Sanji for the story. Robin-chan, Nami-san, and Brook were a little more reserved about their enthusiasm, but he could tell even they were highly interested in hearing exactly how the fight with the Alchemist had ended.

So he started from the beginning (for the benefit of Robin-chan mostly, and Chopper too he guessed), with some input from Nami-san, Luffy and Brook until their stories diverged. Then he explained how the rest of the fight had gone once he was alone, omitting only the details vital to keeping Zoro's secret. He could almost swear Brook was frowning at him at one point, and a few of Nami-san's inquiries came painfully close to the truth, but brilliant Robin-chan helped him explain those little bumps away smoothly enough to leave the whole crew satisfied. Usopp then felt the need to explain how the man had snuck up on him and Zoro (embellishing considerably, Sanji could tell even without having been there), and Robin-chan explained how the unforgivable bastard was now under control and would no longer bother them. And before Sanji knew it, it was time to start dinner, and the rest of the night passed without incident.

The next day was just as busy, and at the same time, just as uneventful. Sanji was happy to get back to his kitchen and his meals after several days of being forced to do almost nothing, and though it took him longer than usual to get breakfast and lunch ready due to his sore body and regular pauses to rest his leg, it was still an enjoyable and strangely therapeutic activity. Franky arrived that afternoon, a few hours after lunch, and had 'something in his eye' for nearly the entirety of the story of the past few weeks, shared with him by nearly every member of the crew over a few welcome-back snacks.

Most important to Sanji was the discussion he'd had with Chopper that morning, while he'd made breakfast. The little reindeer had inquired with professional medical interest into exactly what methods Sanji had used to treat their swordsman. He seemed impressed with Sanji's extensive knowledge of starvation symptoms and treatment, and had asked the cook to collaborate with him on nutritional treatments in the future, especially after being given a rundown on the soups and broths Sanji had been preparing for the past two weeks. Chopper had, apparently, taken over supervising Zoro's meals while Sanji had been down, but while they were clinically precise Zoro had apparently complained numerous times over the medicinal taste. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sanji couldn't help but quietly smirk to himself at that.

"How's he doing, anyway?" the cook asked quietly, casually. It wasn't like he was _worried_, after all. Hell, Zoro was now under the care of one of the best doctors in the world, he was stubborn as hell, and he was officially safe from the bastard that had so cruelly messed him up to begin with. There was nothing _to_ worry over anymore.

But he asked anyway because...well, because he just _should_, dammit, that was all there was to it. He'd had a hand in the marimo's recovery after all, he had a right to a few answers himself.

"He's alive," Chopper said with a tired shrug. "It'll be a while before he's _better_, but you know that. You handled his initial recovery really well, so I don't foresee any major problems as long as we keep an eye on his diet and don't let him overexert himself in a few months, when he can start building muscle again." The reindeer groaned with exasperation. "I'm not looking forward to that part, you _know_ how crazy Zoro gets about his training, he_ never_ listens to me when I tell him to take it easy..."

Sanji rolled his eyes in agreement. "Don't worry. If he tries to go too far I'll put a stop to it." And at Chopper's stern look, he added, "_Carefully_. I promise. Stupid marimo..."

The reindeer nodded in satisfaction, but then seemed to wilt slightly. "Um...but maybe you should go visit him later."

Sanji stared at him in surprise; Chopper's voice had gone from professional and serious to anxious and worried, and he could practically_ see_ the transformation from doctor to little brother. Frowning, he turned away from his breakfast preparations at the counter to face the reindeer more fully, and said, "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's just..." Chopper bit his lip, then said slowly, "I know the rest of you talked about how to help Zoro. That maybe beating this Alchemist guy would help him get better. Physically he'll be fine, but...I don't know. I think the starvation is still causing some pretty severe depression. When I was treating him yesterday it sounded like he still wanted to leave..."

The poor reindeer was trembling by the end, obviously deeply concerned for the swordsman he looked up to so much, and Sanji reflexively felt the need to give the stupid marimo a good hard kick for worrying their youngest crew member.

But the last thing Chopper needed to see right now was anger, so he forced himself to keep a calm expression and said, "Don't worry about it, Chopper. I'll go talk to him today, see if I can figure out what's going on."

The reindeer looked almost instantly appeased. "You will? Great! Nami said you were the only one to figure out what's going on with Zoro before, so maybe you can figure it out again!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sanji said, and that had been the end of that. But that evening, after the excitement of the day had finally died down and dinner had been served, eaten, and cleaned up, the cook finally found himself heading over to the infirmary with a good stretch of time at his disposal. And he was sure he was going to need every second of it.

Sanji slammed the door to the infirmary open without any preamble, already irritated before the encounter had even started. Chopper was there, putting the finishing touches on a bandage on Zoro's arm, where the lacerations caused by the chains when they'd first found Zoro still hadn't healed completely. Zoro looked positively sullen as he underwent the treatment, such a familiar expression that for a moment Sanji's anger balked in the way of confusion; maybe Chopper had just been anxious for no reason.

But they both looked up suddenly when the door smashed open (Chopper even jumped with a small yelp) and that was when Sanji saw it. Zoro's expression, for a bare moment, looked...shocked. Not from the sound of the door; the expression hadn't appeared until his eyes had fallen on Sanji himself. The surprise was gone in a heartbeat, but Sanji had seen it, and it had been genuine.

Zoro was surprised to see him. Now what the hell was with that?

"Usopp wanted to see you for a second," Sanji told the reindeer. It was an absolute lie, but it was a way to be rid of the anxious, hovering Chopper while he dealt with Zoro, and he was sure Usopp would probably play it up anyway.

Chopper let out a little 'oh' of surprise and nodded. He finished wrapping the injury, set the roll of bandages aside on his little desk, and then scurried hastily from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. It once again left Sanji alone in the infirmary with Zoro, something that was happening _far_ too frequently of late for his tastes.

But he'd promised he'd get to the bottom of this, and he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit he was curious. So he crossed his arms over his chest, glared down at Zoro, and opened his mouth to speak.

He'd intended to say _what the hell is wrong with you?_ because clearly that was the question at hand. His mind mixed up orders, though, and he found himself voicing the very question he'd thought to himself only a minute previous. "Surprised to see me?"

Sanji was definitely sure he'd said it with enough dripping annoyance to make even the genuine question sound like the start of one of their bickering matches. So he was a little stunned to find that Zoro didn't rise to the bait, didn't glare back, didn't even bristle with barely contained annoyance. He just stared back tiredly—everything _about_ him looked tired, even the way he flopped back into the propped pillows like they were the only thing keeping him up, which was probably true. Sanji finally noticed there was a new bandage wrapped around his head (well really...it happened so often sometimes it was hard to tell when one was_ new_), and he sported a new collection of faded bruises around his neck and on his face.

It was silent for a long time, so long that Sanji was beginning to wonder if the stupid marimo had even heard his question, when Zoro abruptly spoke up. "You're alive."

Of all the many responses Sanji had been expecting, this certainly wasn't one of them. Baffled, he considered the answer half a dozen times before finally asking, "Is there some reason I shouldn't be?"

It was a pretty easy cue he'd handed Zoro there. Now was the time the marimo ought to start complaining about the way he treated the ladies (like the oaf would ever understand) or hurl any one of his half a dozen stupid nicknames for his (perfectly normal, thank you very much) eyebrow at him. Sanji wasn't one to give gifts so easily, but Zoro _was_ sick, so a freebie was okay just this once, he guessed.

But again, Zoro did not meet his expectations. Instead of complaining, or swearing, or getting into a heated nickname battle, he shook his head, closed his eyes, and said with obvious exhaustion, "He had you cold. One on one. You didn't run...he should've killed you."

Sanji scowled down at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, marimo," he growled. "I _did_ beat him, as a matter of fact. And he's never coming back." Even though Zoro was right too, in a way. The Alchemist _should_ have killed him, or worse. It was only sheer dumb luck that he'd won at all, in the end. Furious as it had made him, if the battle hadn't gone into the kitchen, Sanji would have lost.

But it hadn't happened, and he'd won, and the damn shit swordsman had no right to say otherwise. Zoro was being sloppy. They were still on the _Sunny_ after all, not stuffed in come cell on a ship heading back to that bastard's castle. Everyone was alive, and their missing nakama were back. No way in hell it could be mistaken as a failure.

But Zoro was shaking his head again, and said tiredly, "Victory doesn't always mean living."

Sanji glared at him again. "What, so I dropped dead after I took the bastard down. Is that what you're saying? How the hell could you _possibly_ mistake me for being _dead_, you dumbass?"

That hit a spark. Zoro twitched slightly, met Sanji's glare with his own smoldering gaze. He still looked exhausted, but there was a hint of fight there that wasn't present before. "What the hell else was I supposed to think, curlybrow? I saw what he did to you in the fight when I grabbed him. You couldn't even _stand._ And I've seen everyone else at some point, but I haven't caught sight of you once for the past few days since I woke up, not even through the window!"

"And you didn't think to _ask?_" Sanji said, exasperation thick in his voice.

"What the hell d'you think I did when I first woke up?" Zoro snarled back. "When I saw Chopper was back I did, but every time I brought up the fight he told me not to worry about it. That it was too much stress for me to handle right now." He scowled in annoyance, but Sanji could could definitely see traces of worry and even relief buried in his expression.

It clicked for Sanji. "You thought they weren't telling you I was dead until you could handle it or something?"

Zoro gave him a sullen look. "Wouldn't be the first time you guys kept a death from me."

Sanji narrowed his eyes. "And just what the hell is that supposed to—" he began, but froze suddenly as the implications hit him again. "You don't mean..."

"Yeah." A pause, and Zoro looked away, a frown on his face. "I figured it out when I was...paying you back," he said slowly, and Sanji knew immediately that he was referring to unwillingly divulging his story. "Since I had to go through the whole thing again. I was too out of it at the end to even realize it, but...Perona's dead. Right?"

Count on Zoro to be blunt. Sanji winced, but then said, "Yeah. She is," and fell silent, allowing Zoro to mull over it.

He was silent for so long Sanji almost would have thought he'd passed out, if he wasn't watching the odd flicker of twisted expressions on Zoro's face as he considered the confirmation. Which felt a little like the cook was peeping on a rather private moment, so after a few seconds Sanji turned his head away, studied the suddenly interesting roll of bandages on Chopper's desk.

Then Zoro spoke. "She didn't deserve that."

Sanji could only say mutedly, "You're right." Because it was true.

"We made a deal, you know."

"You told me."

"I probably could have escaped that one time if I didn't stop for her."

"Mmm."

"But I made the deal. So I had to try."

"Agreed."

"And she's dead anyway."

Sanji had nothing to say to that.

More silence, and then Zoro exhaled slowly, and said dully, "Fuck."

Sanji finally turned back, regarded their swordsman carefully. Zoro had never been terribly emotional or anything, but it'd still be awkward to catch him in the act of expressing pent up sorrow or some crap like that. But Zoro didn't look terribly sad; if anything his expression was totally blank. Combined with the bruises and the still thin quality of his face, it made him look rather dead.

"We would have told you," Sanji offered, in an attempt to kick the conversation back into gear.

"But you didn't until now because..." Zoro began, giving Sanji a significant look as he trailed off.

"Because you couldn't have handled it," Sanji said automatically, which was true. In the earlier days Zoro had been out of his mind and wouldn't have known or understood it anyway. And in the later days, while lucid, Zoro was still incredibly unstable mentally; the knowledge wouldn't have helped his recovery at all.

Then he realized he'd been baited when Zoro said coldly, "Then can you really blame me for making that mistake _this_ time, curlybrow?"

Which made sense, he supposed. Chopper had probably meant well, by forbidding discussion of the fight while his patient was recovering. After all, he'd done the same with Sanji. But Zoro wasn't exactly in his right mind, and avoiding the discussion was probably the same as a confirmation to him, especially when he knew it had happened before.

Of course, he wasn't about to admit the swordsman's mistake was a legitimate one, so Sanji scowled down at him and snapped, "Well I'm still alive, so tough luck. I've been laid up in the mens' quarters for the past few days because Chopper wouldn't let me walk, and unlike _some of us_," he said with a pointed drawl, "I actually obey the doctor's orders."

Zoro glared back at him, then glanced at Sanji's feet automatically. The cook was resting most of his weight on his left leg, since the right had started to twinge again, indicating he'd need to sit down relatively soon. Cocking his head slightly, Zoro asked almost absently, "Leg injury?"

"A stress fracture, among other things," Sanji responded. "Turns out the bastard had a pretty strong grip."

Zoro frowned, which wasn't the response Sanji was expecting. Damn swordsman was being too unpredictable today, not throwing out insults when he had perfectly acceptable cues to do so. Instead, the stupid marimo had the nerve to say in that same, emotionless tone as before, "My fault."

"I'm pretty sure it's _his_ fault," Sanji snapped back, because he knew where this was going to go if he didn't head Zoro off at the pass.

But no such luck. Zoro shook his head again and said in that same half-dead voice, "He came here because of me. You guys all got hurt because of me. You almost_ died_ because of _me_."

"Doesn't matter. He's beaten. It's over."

"No. Beaten or not, I still brought him here. I broke pretty much every rule Luffy laid down when I joined his crew. Endangered his friends, betrayed his trust...that it worked out doesn't mean anything. I'm still a traitor."

Sanji scowled down at him. "Fine. He came here because of you."

Zoro's shoulders sagged under the weight of the accusation, but he nodded grimly in agreement all the same, taking the verbal blow head on. _Just like him, the moron_, Sanji thought in annoyance, and then launched the other half of his newfound strategy.

"I'm also _alive_ because of you."

Zoro blinked in surprise and turned his head, giving Sanji a rather confused look. Sanji would have laughed at the expression if the situation weren't so serious. As it was he pushed on, not giving Zoro a chance to come up with some half-assed, depression-induced argument. "You're right, marimo. He had me cold. If you hadn't intervened, tripped him up, I wouldn't have recovered in time. I'd be dead. No, probably worse than dead." And he shuddered despite himself.

Zoro looked stunned, and Sanji realized in retrospect that it wasn't exactly often he'd ever admitted to anybody—much less his rival—that he'd been on the losing end of a fight. The swordsman's mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to argue out of habit, but wasn't sure what to say.

Sanji knew what _his_ next argument was, and beat Zoro to the punch. "Traitors don't give a damn, marimo. Why'd you do it?"

Zoro's eyes widened a fraction, but then narrowed, and something of that old, fierce determination he used to have in brutal combat flashed through his eyes. "I wouldn't let him have anybody else, not if I could do a damn thing to stop it. Over my dead body."

"Huh. Interesting." And at Zoro's half confused, half angry look, Sanji added almost conversationally, "It's just that, it seems to _me_ at least, that if you were really a traitor you'd have let me die. If you were _really_ a traitor, you would've stood back and let him do whatever he wanted, not risked your life to stop him—especially in your condition. Hell, if you were _really_ a traitor, you would have taken him up on his offer way back when he first caught you, when he offered you that military license. And you'd have come after us yourself." He shrugged. "But I didn't see any of that happening. Sorry, marimo, I don't think you qualify. Which, incidentally, also means you don't qualify for leaving, so get that stupid idea out of your head. You're worrying Chopper, you know."

Zoro still looked stunned from the hefty verbal assault, and more than a little confused. He wasn't convinced, but Sanji hadn't really been expecting that; their swordsman was still too messed up in the head at this stage, and the mental ramifications of what had happened to him wouldn't be erased completely, not yet. But it was definitely a start, and even Sanji could see it. Zoro wasn't quite so aggressively insistent that he had to leave, now that he knew for a fact the Alchemist was beaten. His driving need to protect the crew had been taken from the equation, removing one weapon from the arsenal at his depression's disposal. Stunned and confused was definitely a start.

The swordsman was shaking his head weakly now. Sanji was struck yet again by how utterly exhausted the man looked, and when he spoke his voice sounded weak too, lacked the vicious conviction he'd had a few days ago when he argued with Sanji over the subject. "You _know_ what I did, cook. I can't be here. I can't live with that."

Sanji narrowed his eyes, and went with his final tactic, his second disarming attack against that mental block. "You don't have much of a choice in the matter, marimo. You'll _have_ to stay here." Zoro's head snapped up, and his eyes were filled with frustrated anger, but Sanji plowed right on without stopping. "See, marimo, I remembered our deal. And I've kept my end of the bargain, too. I only told the others about what that bastard could do so they could defend themselves, and warned them he was probably still after us." He emphasized the 'us' intentionally, just in case Zoro got that stupid notion into his head again that it was all about _him._

"But it took a little creative bending of the truth to get them to agree that beating the Alchemist might be safer for all of us in the long run. They didn't like that you kept trying to leave, marimo. I told them it was for their protection, and a revenge drive, and that as soon as he was beaten you'd stop trying to run. Now what the hell d'you think they'll do, if you vanish into the night_ after_ I took the bastard down?"

Zoro's eyes widened, and Sanji had to give him credit where it was due; the idiot swordsman definitely got the threat before he'd even fully spelled it out. "You wouldn't. You swore—"

"Sure I did," Sanji agreed with a snarl, "and I fully intend to keep it, but _think_ here marimo. Everyone is convinced beating the Alchemist will help _you_. They're worried. You vanish. They'll wonder why you weren't better, why you ran away. _Luffy_ will wonder what the hell happened. And you know how he is when he wants answers. You think I'll have any choice but to tell? And when I _do_, he'll just hunt you down anyway and bring you back, because _you belong on this crew, you marimo moron!_"

"I _don't!_" Zoro snapped back, and Sanji could tell there wasn't even any reason behind it anymore; just that he'd convinced himself it was true, could hardly understand why, but believed it all the same. _Bingo._

"Fine," Sanji growled, making sure to keep his voice as confrontational sounding as possible. It was a good mask for him, considering his rivalry with the swordsman, and concealed a clever and calculating approach with not a hint as to its true intent. "If you really believe that, I'll make a deal with you."

Zoro stared at him suspiciously, clearly uncertain as to the nature of this 'deal,' which Sanji fully expected. Hell, he'd be suspicious too. But he kept his growling, confrontational tone, and hissed at the swordsman, "The deal is, you have to stay on the ship and get better. I already told you it'll take about a year, maybe a little less. If at the end of that year you can beat me in a totally even one-on-one spar—or hell, even come out even against me—and you still want to leave, you can go. Nobody'll be as suspicious if you decided to leave to pursue your sword dreams or whatever the hell it is you sword-guys do these days. I'll even help you come up with a good excuse for Luffy so he won't drag you back after.

"But if you try to leave before Chopper officially announces you as 'back to normal' to the whole crew, I'll make you regret it, marimo. I'll kick your ass back into that bed before I let you even think about leaving, just like before." He tapped his right leg on the ground, emphasizing the point, ignoring the painful twinges as he did so. "And of course, if he others catch wind of your escape attempt, I might very well be forced to tell them what's _really_ up with you."

Zoro narrowed his eyes at the last part, and his gaze was filled with more than a little anxiety—but also, Sanji was inwardly pleased to see, fury, and determined anticipation for a challenge. "Is that all?" he growled, and the cook noted with barely concealed amusement that marimo was already flexing his fingers slowly, as though getting ready to wrap them around a sword hilt and leap into combat.

"One final condition," Sanji answered, still careful to keep the angry facade in place (which was not entirely difficult, he had to admit to himself, seeing as Zoro was pissing him off anyway). "The whole time you're here, you stop pushing the others away." And at Zoro's vaguely confused expression, he added, "You're stuck here for a year anyway, and the Alchemist is gone. It's not like you need to separate yourself from the crew, especially since you won't be trying to get away. This might come as a shock, but the others are actually _worried_ about you, idiot. And they get more worried when you start pretending they don't exist."

Zoro glared at him, but asked with a notable hint of suspicion, "What do _you_ get out of this deal? It seems too one-sided."

It was a question Sanji had to be careful with, but he already had an answer ready. "I'm a cook, remember? And I told you what happened to me. You still look like crap, marimo, and I hate seeing starving people. Even if you _are_ annoying as hell, I can't, in good conscience, let you leave this ship before I'm sure you won't keel over from malnutrition as soon as you leave."

Zoro's eyes bored into his, as though searching for the truth, but Sanji was equal to that and glared right back, refusing to give any quarter. And it was the truth anyway, or part of it; Sanji had become very good at speaking in half-truths the past few days. He _was_ concerned with Zoro's health, knew that the swordsman would die fairly quickly if he was suddenly put out on his own, and was determined to make sure that didn't happen. But that was only part of it.

Because Sanji had been through starvation too, and knew how much it messed with a person's head. Zoro wasn't capable of thinking in his right mind, as he would if he were totally healthy. It wasn't any fault of his own, but it _was_ a fact; Zoro wasn't himself, wouldn't be for quite some time. The rest of the torture didn't help any, but that, too, was something that Zoro would be able to get past, when it wasn't quite so intimate. This deal, this challenge, was about restoring Zoro's health, but it was also about buying time: enough time for Zoro to recover, reclaim his senses, and heal his mental wounds.

And Sanji was positive that a year of recovery with this crew, supportive and tight-knit as it was, was more than enough for Zoro to realize that he didn't want to leave after all. They just had to keep him there long enough for him to find that answer himself.

But he wasn't about to let Zoro know that. Zoro was stubborn, and if he understood the ulterior motives he'd dig in his heels and resist on principle, because he was an idiot. So Sanji hid his true intentions behind half a truth and a mask of confrontation, and waited for Zoro to take the bait.

Zoro considered, and then after a moment, he nodded. "Fine. Deal. I'll stay until I'm better."

"Until _Chopper_ says you're better," Sanji insisted. "To the _whole crew_. No self-diagnoses."

"Fine. I'll stay until _Chopper_ announces I'm better," Zoro snapped back, voice dripping with annoyance. "And I won't ignore anyone, unless I'm trying to take a nap," he finished, with a glare that clearly said _I am not bending on that point._

Fair enough, seeing as he usually ignored everybody when he was sleeping, anyway. "Fine. I won't tell anybody what happened with that shitty bastard. And if you still want to leave a year from now, I'll help you find a way to go with no consequence from Luffy."

"Good."

They concluded the deal with perfect timing; half a second later Chopper bustled back in, looking a bit confused. "Usopp didn't need me at all," the reindeer said, "But it did take me forever to find him. Are you sure your head is feeling okay, Sanji? Maybe you were a little confused...I knew I shouldn't have let you up yet, you should—"

"I'm fine," Sanji cut him off quickly, before he could be sentenced to another week of bed rest. "Gotta go take stock of the kitchen and think about breakfast tomorrow," he added by way of excuse, and after giving Zoro one last, significant look he slipped out the door and bolted for the haven of the galley.

* * *

My apologies if Robin's speech is incorrect. I am a fail fanfiction writer :( According to her OPWiki page, after Enies Lobby she starts using some of the Straw Hats' names, not their profession-titles, but only some, not all. I wasn't sure which ones they were, if they were just names, if she still included suffixes, and if she only used them when addressing the chars in question but not when referring to them by other people...so I just resorted to the old profession-titles. If anybody happens to know what the real deal is let me know and I may possibly edit this XP

Okay...so now the next chapter is the last one (for srs this time, everything is 100% written now). Since this is the second to last chapter, **if you still have questions about the Alchemist **feel free to ask them in your reviews, and I will write up finalized answers in the last chapter :)

As always, if you choose to leave a review, please make it a well rounded one. I like hearing what you liked and what you didn't. I am always open to constructive criticism. And all that good stuff. :D

~VelkynKarma


	17. The Edge of Oblivion

**Mindshattered**

Part seventeen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

**Note:** Can you believe we're really at the end, guys? It's been one hell of a ride! I wasn't expecting nearly this much feedback, but as I write this fic has over 270 reviews, over 70 faves, and nearly 14,000 hits. All I can say is **thank you guys so much** for all your support of this story, and hopefully you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it :) Well, onward!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, or pretend to own, _One Piece_ or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Eiichiro Oda. The only thing that belongs to me here is the concept for the story.

* * *

"Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity."

~Hippocrates

* * *

Life on the _Thousand Sunny_ after that was different, but quickly making its way back to the Straw Hat Pirate's definition of 'normal.'

They remained at Sabaody for a few more days, until they figured out exactly what their new plan was. Sanji told Luffy that it would be at least a year before Zoro could be considered back to normal physically, and cautioned that it would be too dangerous to head to the New World just yet. After all, there was still the very real possibility that Zoro could get badly hurt, or even killed. He suggested trying a few of the other routes on the Grand Line in the meantime, and Luffy took to the suggestion instantly with great enthusiasm, just like Sanji knew he would. There was plenty to see on the Grand Line after all, and they'd only encountered a miniscule fraction of it. The possibility of new adventures was too tantalizing for their captain to resist.

So they began backtracking, exploring new islands, meeting new people, fighting new enemies. And while they traveled, all of them—but especially Sanji and Chopper—kept an eye on their swordsman's health, pushing in any way they could for a recovery, and protecting him in any way possible from the all too real dangers they encountered, just like he always had for them.

The first month or two were the most terrifying, Sanji had to admit. Zoro was at his most vulnerable then, and even if they hadn't traveled to the New World the first half of the Grand Line was still a breeding ground for potentially deadly threats, ones Zoro would be unable to protect himself from if he was put into a dangerous position. During those months they kept him on the ship. And though he was never completely confined to the infirmary (at Sanji's insistence) they never risked bringing him onto the islands they landed on unless they were deserted.

Even so, there had still been more than a few close calls. On several occasions their ship had been attacked by marines, bounty hunters, or other groups of malevolent pirates. They were usually repelled with relative ease, while Zoro was (often forcibly) hidden below deck for his own safety. But there had been a few mishaps, when enemy men had gotten too close for comfort, nearly spotting their emaciated swordsman. One marine even _had_, coming so close to killing Zoro it was terrifying. Sanji had been afraid then, because he'd seen the man slip into the infirmary during the unexpected attack and knew he was too far away to do anything about it. Robin-chan had dispatched the man with ease, and used her many hands to toss the body overboard before Luffy could catch sight of the kill. Sanji hated the thought of leaving the work to poor Robin-chan, but understood her logic; Zoro couldn't be allowed to die, and nobody could be allowed to leave with knowledge of his condition. Ever.

And then there were other problems that stemmed from the crew itself, though these were more unintentional in nature. Since Chopper had returned, he'd naturally taken over Zoro's care and recovery, but Sanji kept a close eye on the proceedings. He had an vested interest in the swordsman's recovery, after all, not to mention he was still the only one who _fully_ knew what had happened to Zoro. It meant that a few well-intentioned actions on the part of their doctor would actually _hurt _Zoro more, in the long run, even if the reindeer never knew it.

Like drugging his food. _That_ argument had been an especially nasty one, more so because Sanji never really yelled at Chopper before. Sanji took care of Zoro's meals, with the doctor's approval, and Chopper had insisted on trying to slip a few different medications into those meals for the swordsman's benefit. Sanji could see the logic in it; Zoro was not terribly fond of medication and did not take it easily. Not to mention Chopper had caught on to the fact that Zoro experienced vivid nightmares, but predictably refused to take any sleeping pills or draughts, even if they promised a dreamless rest. Chopper thought it prudent that he get his rest anyway, even with medical aid, as the lack of a sound sleep would only hinder his recovery.

It was all very logical. Sanji understood that logic completely. He still vehemently refused to drug Zoro's meals. And though he couldn't provide a truthful reason as to it, he could come up with half a dozen other excuses as to why he wouldn't do it anyway. That argument had forced Sanji to start taste-testing anything intended for Zoro just before he brought it to the swordsman, too, and often in front of Chopper. Even if the reindeer had the initiative to try and slip something in anyway, he was sure the doctor wouldn't let Sanji eat drugged food meant for an _un_healthy body. It was always safe. Sanji never told Zoro about the arguments, but _did_ take to badgering Zoro into taking the medications when Chopper's pleading fell upon deaf ears, usually citing their deal as the reason to do so. He also kept an eye on Zoro every time he was brought outside on the deck to take a nap, and noted the swordsman slept much more comfortably when he was surrounded by the bustle of the crew. He never saw a hint of a nightmare then.

And there were problems with the rest of the crew, too. They visited Zoro often while he was stuck in the infirmary, or sometimes in a rare moment when he was on deck but not sound asleep. Sanji could tell Zoro was doing his damnedest to live up to his part of the deal, and not shove the rest of the crew away—especially the more enthusiastic members, like their captain, or Usopp and Chopper—but he could also tell it was difficult for the swordsman to manage. Zoro did his best to act normally around them, but it was obvious that he all too frequently heard himself listing each and every one of his friends' weaknesses, when they came over to chat or show him something. Visits would often start off on a normal note, but taper off as Zoro fell into a memory-and-depression-induced apathetic mood. The crew seemed to recognize it, and most of them never bothered him for _too_ long, only hanging around for ten or fifteen minutes to share an amusing story or tell their swordsman about the latest adventure on the last island. Occasionally Sanji would take it upon his shoulders to kick a few of the less perceptive crew members out of the infirmary, or call them away from the swordsman for 'help' with something if he happened to be on deck, and completely ignored the confused and grateful looks Zoro shot his way. Marimo was _trying_ to live up to the spirit of the deal, at least, which was fine enough for Sanji for now.

But despite all the mishaps and close calls, the fact of the matter was that Zoro was getting better. Under Sanji's and Chopper's supervision, he gained weight slowly but surely, started looking less and less skeletal and more and more human again. Sanji regulated his portions carefully, gradually increasing how much Zoro was allowed at his meals, which in turn needed to occur less frequently. After a month they were able to start switching him to solid foods, though carefully. After a few more weeks, he could handle most kinds of food, though still in much smaller and more carefully regulated portions than he had months ago.

The best had been about two months into the recovery. Chopper finally announced that, while Zoro still had a long way to go, he no longer had to be confined to the infirmary and would be allowed to move around on his own, provided he was very careful and didn't strain himself. The crew let out an enthusiastic cheer at the news, and Luffy declared a feast was in order, which Sanji was more than happy to deliver. He'd slaved over the stove for most of the afternoon to create a feast fit for kings, and although Zoro himself still couldn't handle a meal of feast proportions, Sanji carefully prepared him an acceptable sized dinner consisting of his favorite foods. Alcohol was still expressly forbidden until Zoro's weight had more or less been recovered, but Sanji whipped up a drink that was at least reasonably similar in taste to a good wine, if not in content. And Nami-san (kind and loving that she was!) insisted that the rest of them wouldn't be drinking anything alcoholic either, just to avoid the temptation.

The feast was like all previous Straw Hat feasts; loud, rambunctious, full of fooling around and eating and singing and general insanity. It was the first time any of them saw Zoro even smirk since they'd rescued him. It was also the first time he willingly interacted with any of them for more than half an hour without suddenly becoming emotionless and trying to slink off to a quiet corner of the ship. He stayed with them for the whole night, and while Sanji (carefully monitoring, even though he was pretending he wasn't) caught a few brief glimpses of regret or guilt on the swordsman's face as he watched the rest of their nakama, they were just as quickly erased by the antics of captain and crew. Not even those dark and horrific memories could stand up to the weight of a full-scale Straw Hat party.

It was reassuring to the Straw Hats too, because one other addition had been made: three katana, carefully bound and resting firmly at their swordsman's hip. Upon release from the infirmary, Zoro had predictably made his first demand the return of his swords. Nami-san had locked them in the _Sunny_'s safe back when they'd first found Zoro, knowing how precious they were and refusing put them anywhere they could be lost. And later, with Zoro's unpredictable personality and general instability, they'd all agreed it was probably _not_ the safest decision to hand him three instruments of killing. Nami-san was still hesitant about returning the swords at first, but Sanji, confident in Zoro's promise to keep his end of their deal, assured her it would be fine. Zoro reclaimed the weapons with a sense of determination, and it was like watching a part of the man's soul being given back to him when he tied on his sword belt and haramaki and strapped each of those swords to his side again.

He'd spent most of the afternoon up until the feast sitting on the deck in the sun, examining the blades with fastidious care, disassembling them to check each and every component, cleaning and oiling them with the assured nature of a master. It was a bit depressing to watch, as Zoro's hands shook with the effort of lifting each blade, and he had to stop frequently for rest breaks, especially with the black-bladed sword. It made his obvious mastery distorted, just the tiniest bit warped, but just enough to be notably _wrong_. But Zoro powered through, continued with his careful examination of each sword, and by the time the feast began the three familiar weapons sat comfortably at his hip, well cared for and reunited with their master. And though it was obvious Zoro wouldn't be _using_ them any time soon, lacking the strength to do so, a new level of inner power had grown in Zoro that wasn't there hours before.

After that feast, and that notable marking stone in Zoro's recovery, things began to shift once again. They were still careful with Zoro when it came to combat, keeping him safely away from the battles they knew he couldn't handle yet and the stress they knew he couldn't take. But being able to move about the ship added to Zoro's level of independence, and it seemed to help his recovery considerably. His apathetic mood swings, while still far too common for their tastes, took more time to trigger and did not last as long as they used to.

He had also developed a few new habits on the ship, though this did not come as any surprise to Sanji, especially since most of them revolved around food in some shape or form. Though Zoro had managed to regain some measure of control over his eating habits, and no longer lost his reason when it came to his meals, he still reacted as though every meal would be his last for a while. Sanji did his best to not be _too_ offended. He knew Zoro wasn't doing it intentionally, and that the swordsman knew by now food would never be withheld from him on the _Sunny_, but it still grated at his pride as a cook.

And there was a new habit (that Sanji decided he should have been able to predict, in retrospect) that they discovered the first night Zoro rejoined the group meals in the kitchen. Sanji had prepared dinner for everyone as usual, and a separate dinner for Zoro, who was still on a different meal plan than the others for the time being. Despite the difference in food the meal had gone relatively smoothly—if a Straw Hat dinner could ever be called _smooth_, Sanji thought wryly—until the incident happened. Luffy, as always, made a grab for a part of somebody else's dinner when he'd devoured his own within the span of mere minutes. Sanji valiantly defended Robin-chan's and Nami-san's plates, and not even Luffy would steal from Zoro considering the situation, so the rubber arm banked and stretched for Usopp's plate instead. But Luffy overshot as always, and it brought his fingers perilously close to Zoro's half-finished meal.

The reaction happened before any of them could so much as blink in surprise. Zoro's grip on his fork switched to something vaguely reminiscent of how he held his katana, his entire upper body seemed to hunch possessively over his plate, and he let out a low, almost inhuman snarl that had caused everyone, even Luffy, to freeze in place. Sanji recognized that sound all too well, remembered very clearly hearing it when they had first found Zoro in that unforgivable bastard's cell months ago. Judging from Nami-san's look of startled recognition she knew it, too.

It only lasted a few moments, and Sanji immediately diverted attention in the only way he could possibly think of: cursing Luffy a blue streak, and putting his foot through his captain's face, ranting about _leaving Usopp's food alone, damn it._ Luffy yelped loudly and complained that he was still hungry, and Usopp hastily joined in on the argument, forcing the conversation away from that unusual incident. In the aftermath, Sanji glanced back at Zoro briefly; the swordsman had looked just as surprised with himself as Nami-san had a few moments before.

Sanji was more careful with table placements after that, putting Zoro next to or even in between the girls, just so he could keep an eye on Zoro's plate as well without actually looking like he gave a shit.

There were other, less violent habits as well. Zoro often finished his meals first, or close to it, and would spend an inordinate amount of time watching everyone else on the crew eat. It even happened during the day, when Sanji passed out individual snacks or offered special drinks to his darling Nami-san and Robin-chan; he could all too often feel Zoro's eyes on his back then, even from across the deck. Zoro never tried to steal anything from the others as far as Sanji could figure (and Sanji would never let him get away with it anyway, as it wouldn't be good for his health). It was just a habit, probably one he wasn't even aware of, and would likely have for a long, long time.

Stranger still was Zoro's newest napping spot. He took to his old favorite napping places on deck just like he always had, and would stretch out for hours at a time in the sun to rest. But increasingly more often—and especially during his apathetic mood swings—Zoro would slink into the galley and stretch out on the couch, or sit down at the table and rest his head on folded arms. He did so regardless of whether or not Sanji was actually cooking in the kitchen at the time, and the first few times it had happened Sanji kept a watchful eye on him, expecting Zoro to try and steal something when he thought no one was looking. He was past the stage where refeeding would really be a problem, but he could still make himself sick if he ate too much of the wrong thing.

But Zoro never tried to break into the fridge or find something else in the cabinets, and after a while Sanji realized it was probably just reassuring for him to be near a source of food; to know it _did exist_, even if he wasn't actually eating then and there. He could understand that. He never kicked Zoro out if the galley if he was cooking, and usually just remained silent, letting the swordsman take his nap in relative peace apart from the sounds of clanging pans and food preparation. Sometimes, when Sanji was present, Zoro _was_ snooping for a snack, and occasionally, if he looked pretty terrible at the time—and quite often during those emotionless, dead moments—Sanji would let him have one. On exceedingly rare occasions Zoro would actually watch Sanji prepare lunch or dinner, usually when the meals were more complex; and once he had even asked, in his usual round about, not-actually-caring manner, what exactly the cook was doing at each stage of the preparation. That had been more than a little bewildering, but he'd answered, and Zoro never asked again (so clearly he had aspirations to be a chef).

There were other symptoms, too; hints of the things that had happened to Zoro, that weren't always related to the food. The way he would sometimes stare at different crew mates, quietly observing them on deck, were always unusual, and Sanji could tell it disturbed and confused the rest of the Straw Hats more than a little. And when it was quiet, especially at night, their swordsman became hypersensitive to noise, becoming rather twitchy. The smallest of unidentified noises would immediately send his hand flashing to the white sword's hilt, even if he couldn't use it.

The worst, though, were the nightmares. Zoro had moved back into the men's quarters when he was finally released from the infirmary, which Sanji had figured would be good for him. Zoro had, until then, always slept better out on the deck when surrounded by his crew mates; not being confined, alone, to the infirmary was sure to help with that as well. But he'd been proven wrong soon enough. It hadn't even been a full week before Zoro woke screaming, thrashing frantically in his bunk. Everyone in the men's cabin had started awake at that, climbing out of bed anxiously to see what was wrong. Sanji had hastily shoved past them and half dragged, half carried the still-trembling, not-entire-aware swordsman away from his bunk and towards the door, knowing only that he needed to get them _out_ of there before Zoro started muttering again and gave away his own damn secret. The others had called after him in confusion, but he told Luffy firmly to order the others to go back to bed, and their captain, knowing full well that Sanji's promise was still in affect, agreed.

Sanji had continued the practice after that, waking Zoro up before he really started panicking if he could, silencing him when he woke screaming, and always getting him out of the room before he inadvertently gave away his own story. He usually dragged marimo up to his galley; as during the day, the room had a bizarre calming effect on their swordsman. Sanji still wasn't sure if it was just the reassurance of food, or simply the familiarity of it, but regardless of the reason it worked. He'd give Zoro a drink (still non-alcoholic, on the doctor's orders) and smoke half a dozen cigarettes while he waited. Sometimes Zoro would talk, and Sanji would listen while pretending he wasn't. Sometimes Zoro kept his thoughts to himself until he finally either passed out at the table or submitted to Sanji shoving him back towards the bunks, and that worked just as well for Sanji, too. Though he sure as hell wished Zoro could pick a better time for his psychological panic to present itself. Two-thirty in the morning was not Sanji's favorite time to be awake, especially when he'd run a late ship watch until midnight.

And still, despite all of it, Zoro stubbornly continued to recover physically. Three and a half months of careful feeding treatment passed, and by the end of it Zoro looked like a person again. Not like he had before; he was still quite skinny, and lacked the thick muscles he'd been well known for. But he no longer looked skeletal, and had regained enough weight that the next stage of his training could begin: muscle building.

He'd had to start off remarkably slow. It was almost depressing, watching him use the tiny little weights that were usually reserved for the weaker members of their crew, when they were all used to seeing him swinging around one or two tons of weights before. And even worse was that even those tiny weights tired him. They could all see the strain it put on him at first, getting back into a regular workout schedule after months of inactivity and unhealthy conditions.

But he threw himself back into it vigorously all the same, and if he was embarrassed or disgusted by being reduced from his several-ton weights to measly five and ten pounders he barely showed it. He was working at a much weaker level than he was used to, but this was something he knew, something incredibly familiar and even relaxing to him, gave him something to focus on. It was another step towards independence for him, and Sanji could clearly see it was having a positive affect on not only his physical being, but his mentality as well. The apathetic moments of avoidance that the crew was all too familiar with now decreased markedly the more Zoro threw himself into his exercise programs, and Sanji noticed, too, that the nightmares were starting to occur less often.

They'd all had to reprimand him more than once, of course. It was _Zoro _after all, who had always overworked himself to begin with when it came to his weight training. Now his training schedule, once determined by only himself, was carefully monitored by both Chopper _and_ Sanji, with enthusiastic help from pretty much every other member of the crew. He was only allowed to train three days a week, and was required to rest fully the day after every training session. Those sessions were _always_ monitored, just to make sure he didn't overwork himself, add another set of reps without permission, or otherwise try to do something that would potentially set him back as far as his health went. Zoro was stubborn about breaking the rules; the others were vicious about enforcing them.

Sanji would say one thing for Zoro, though: he always _had_ been remarkably fast at improving. And even with the restrictions placed on his training, Zoro progressed rapidly once he was let back at the weights. Within a month he had already raised the poundage considerably—with Chopper's approval, even. And with another week or two, he was back to swinging one of his prized katana, running the white one that was so obviously important to him through katas on the lawn in the mornings and evenings. He couldn't handle all three yet—it still took him both hands to use the white katana, and Sanji highly doubted Zoro's neck and jaw strength was up to par enough to handle attacking with a sword clenched in his teeth. But it was a notable improvement, enough for the whole crew to notice, and for Luffy to declare another feast because 'Zoro was getting his dream back, now, and that's important!'

Of course, it also meant Zoro wanted in on the battles now, which was more than a little nerve-wracking for all of them. Zoro might be regaining strength, but he was nowhere near his usual level of proficiency, and it would only take one good shot to kill him despite all their hard work. Zoro was stubborn, though, and Sanji could understand him in a way. After being kept away from battle for so long, he'd probably be chomping at the bit too, desperate to prove he still had the ability to hold his own in a fight. And for Zoro, fighting wasn't just something that was occasionally necessary, like it was for Sanji; it was the very core of his being. It would be like keeping Sanji away from his kitchen for months and then barely giving him the opportunity to prove he still remembered how to cook.

He understood, but even so, they took it slow. They no longer forced Zoro to stay below decks when there were unexpected raids on their ship, or when they visited an island that could potentially hold friends and enemies both. But Zoro was usually asked (or more like threatened, courtesy of Nami-san's entirely righteous debt increases) to stay in the least dangerous section of the battle, usually at the rear. He wasn't allowed to leap into the thick of things like Luffy and Sanji, or even take care of the still action-oriented defenses, where Robin-chan, Franky, Chopper and Brook could usually most often be found. This wasn't to say he didn't try it anyway, but Nami-san and Usopp were usually in the back lines with him, and forcibly kept him from charging ahead like a maniac into battle, where he would inevitably do something stupid and cause himself to lose a limb. Or die. He still saw plenty of action there as it was, and was usually able to help Nami-san and Usopp with clean-up, taking down the one or two marines or bounty hunters that managed to slip past the main defenses and board the ship. The exertion always cost him at first, but as time past he slowly started getting better at managing his strength and energy in battle once again, and they started worrying a little less about whether or not he could handle himself in a fight.

More months passed. Zoro trained himself mercilessly under the watchful eyes of the ship's doctor and cook, and managed to gain the use of a second sword, dual-wielding two of his katana both in practice and in battle. He managed to save Usopp when the sniper was in a particularly tight spot, taking down two marines at once, and gained the right to push forward a little further into the main defenses of future battles. He started picking fights with Sanji more often; not just verbal spats, which they had engaged in up until then, but straight-up spars, which was more than a little awkward for the cook. Sanji had to restrain himself considerably to make sure he didn't put Zoro right back in the infirmary, and more often than not he floored the swordsman anyway due to an unfair advantage that made neither of them terribly happy. But the fact that he _was _picking fights at all meant he was recovering still further, not just in body but in mind.

And there were other hints of it too, dotted here and there subtly but nonetheless obvious to the cook, and quite a few other crew members as well. Zoro's apathetic bouts were becoming more and more a rarity. He interacted with the crew willingly far more often now, not just because he was bound to in the terms of the deal, but because he genuinely wanted to. Zoro never smiled much to begin with, even before the crew had been separated, but he smirked or grinned more often now at the crew's antics, especially those of his captain and the younger members. The nightmares were scarcer, easier to wake Zoro from, and required far less time for him to recover (which Sanji's exhausted body frequently thanked whatever gods were out there for). And if Zoro still had a few unusual new habits that refused to break—like retaining the galley as a favorite napping spot, or spotting and staring at food more than was necessary, or refusing to touch any food that hadn't been prepared by Sanji until the cook himself approved it—it was a far cry from the mess that Zoro had been mere months ago, and perfectly acceptable in the long run. Those things, Sanji knew, would take years to get over completely. More importantly, Zoro was starting to act like _himself_ again, like he had before that unforgivable bastard had gotten a hold of him.

Perhaps the most significant indication that Zoro was really coming back to his old self occurred about ten months into his recovery treatment—ironically, right around the anniversary of when the whole crew had been separated, and thus when Zoro had first been captured. Zoro still wasn't quite at the same level of strength that he had been before the Alchemist had captured him, but he had proven himself time and time again in the past few months of battles. And though he still wasn't allowed to join the offensive team that he had used to be a part of with Luffy and Sanji, he held his own with some regularity in the defensive lines.

That was normally. The marine crew they had fought that day was vicious and expertly trained, and their numbers were overwhelming. The Straw Hats had plenty of practice, and everyone had been growing stronger in combat, not just Zoro. But there were still too many of the bastards to safely take on. Chopper especially had been in danger; he'd gotten himself cut off from the rest of the crew and surrounded by angry sword-wielding soldiers.

They had probably considered it a win. What they probably _hadn't_ considered—or even known—was that Zoro was the next closest crew member, that it was _Chopper_ they had cut off from him, and that they'd succeeded in pissing off the world's future greatest swordsman.

That was the first time Zoro used Santoryu again. He'd been training hard to regain the ability to use three swords, but the added burst of adrenaline and the sudden need to protect the youngest crew member was apparently_ just_ the extra incentive needed to fully recover his sword style. To the delighted shock of the entire crew, Zoro placed the white sword between his teeth like he always had, drew the other two, and proceeded to plow straight through the hordes of marine soldiers to get to Chopper's side.

It had ended with over a dozen dangerous slashing wounds covering his body, and one especially life-threatening impale-wound where the opposing first mate had actually managed to stab Zoro through his stomach. But the marines, not expecting such a vicious display of swordplay, and more than a little stunned by a man wielding _three_ swords, panicked. In the sudden confusion it was easy enough for Luffy and Sanji to rout them and send them scampering for their ships. They'd retreated, and the victory had basically gone to Zoro. As soon as their swordsman saw the enemies running, he'd passed out at Chopper's feet, bleeding from over a dozen vicious wounds.

But after the initial panic, rushing Zoro yet _again_ to the infirmary, and several of them screeching at their unconscious swordsman about the _sheer stupidity_ of what he'd just done, many of them actually started laughing. Zoro would be fine, Chopper insisted tiredly after a few hours' work, and it had been a very _Zoro_ thing to do, plowing headlong into a situation without thinking and earning himself half a dozen new scars in the process. And he'd used Santoryu again. He'd used all three swords again. It was like hearing that a friend had come back from the dead. Zoro was back. Zoro, _their_ Zoro, the Zoro of the Straw Hat Pirates, was really and truly coming back.

Luffy had insisted on yet another party to celebrate (Sanji was sure he was just looking for excuses for a lot of food, now). And when Zoro finally woke up a day later, after each and every crew member had had the chance to berate him for his _completely moronic actions _(or exclaim at how cool he'd been, in Luffy's case), they had it, celebrating the return of all three of Zoro's swords and his even further elevation of strength. There had been a number of gifts for the swordsman too, presents that everybody had been holding onto quietly, waiting for the moment of Santoryu's return to signal when the gifts were meant to be given.

Luffy and Chopper had found a new black bandanna at one of the previous ports they'd stopped at, which they gleefully presented to the swordsman. Chopper had even been allowed to tie it around Zoro's arm, which had excited the reindeer all over again. Zoro had feigned nonchalance, but Sanji caught him smirking in amusement at the little doctor all the same.

And Usopp presented Zoro with a small box that he explained was a present from himself, Franky, and Nami-san. Inside were three new earrings, similarly designed to Zoro's old three. When they had rescued Zoro all those months ago, he hadn't been wearing them, and they'd presumably been removed by the Alchemist along with most of his other gear. They had searched the bag of gold Luffy and Brook had found back then, but never located the originals again. Everyone had agreed that Zoro looked just plain _weird_ without them, though, especially when he started acting like his old self again. Franky and Usopp had devised a way to create new ones, and Nami-san had (quite generously) donated some of the gold to melt down and reshape. They were mostly the same, simple and to the point like the old ones had been, though Usopp had made one tiny, almost-unnoticeable change: engraving the characters for 'strength,' 'discipline' and 'loyalty' into the gold, one word for each earring.

Zoro had rolled his eyes at the engravings, and hesitated for a fraction of a second over the third,_ loyalty_. He wouldn't ever know it, but when Usopp had been asking around for opinions on what to place on the earrings, Sanji had hinted at that one, instead of the other words the sniper had been considering (like 'scary' or possibly 'insane'). Just as a not-so-subtle reminder that the deal was coming to a close, and Zoro had a decision to make soon.

He was curious what kind of reaction Zoro would have to the gift, but after his momentary hesitation Zoro accepted all three with a nod. Robin-chan was wonderfully kind enough to help the marimo re-pierce his left ear (apparently they closed up if left unattended for a while, and it had been at least a year in Zoro's case). By the end of the night Zoro merely looked like a slightly skinnier version of his former self, with haramaki and swords at his hip, bandana tied around his left arm, and the three earrings dangling in place.

From then on, the crew had to actively search to find traces of the mental wreck Zoro had been. By now, they were all so used to his odd food habits that they hardly qualified as 'new' or 'unusual,' and the fact that Zoro regularly snoozed in the galley only meant that it was yet another inconvenient napping point where he'd become a near regular furniture fixture. It was all harmless, for the most part, and they never thought anything of it. He had stopped regarding the other crew members with traces of guilt for some time now, and as always did his level best to protect each and every one of them in battle when he could. His training was becoming more vigorous, and harder and harder to control on the part of Chopper or Sanji, but it also wasn't really endangering him anymore to push himself. He was rapidly catching up to Sanji, who found himself pulling his kicks less and less when their heated sparring over some stupid thing the marimo did began again. He still had the occasional nightmare, but on this crew, with all the things everyone had gone through, that was hardly uncommon to begin with; and he rarely needed Sanji's not-exactly-listening help to deal with them anymore.

The twelfth month was rapidly approaching now, and nearly a year after Zoro's rescue and recovery began, Luffy was starting to get edgy about approaching the New World once again. He spoke of it constantly, and with a unanimous consent the crew agreed on their next destination. Nami-san dusted off the eternal pose to Sabaody Archipelago, and the _Thousand Sunny_ began the trip back towards their original goal, sailed once again ever closer to One Piece.

There was one final thing that needed to be taken care of, as well, before they reached the Archipelago and the New World. With the deadline for the deal rapidly drawing closer, Sanji had one final piece of work that needed attending to, something highly important that he'd been thinking about for months now. He spoke quietly to Nami-san about it, and though she'd been appalled at his request at first she eventually agreed, and even offered to help him. Especially when he asked her how to pick locks.

They arrived at Kuraiana Island about two weeks before the anniversary of the Alchemist's defeat. It was, ironically enough, almost the exact same time they'd arrived at the same island one year before, to make their horrific discovery in the dungeons. They hadn't told Zoro where they were going, and Sanji had asked Luffy for only a brief detour; he promised wouldn't hold them for more than two days. Luffy had sensed the enormity of his request and agreed solemnly. He had even managed to keep it a secret from Zoro, much to their surprise.

They arrived at night, thanks to Nami-san's skilled maneuvering, long after Zoro had gone to sleep. That was fortunate. Though he had essentially recovered, if he knew what Sanji was up to he'd inevitably insist on accompanying the cook, and Sanji didn't think he could handle this part. He didn't really want to bring Nami-san either, but Nami-san had been there the first time, so he supposed she knew what she was getting into, and she did have the right to it. Robin-chan and Chopper accompanied them as well, both having some degree of expertise with what they were about to do, and Chopper carried a few supplies and two folded blankets carefully on his back in Walk Point.

The island was just as dreary and grim as it had been a year ago. The four of them took the Mini Merry to the harbor lane that they had traversed up a year ago, made for the castle that had once been the Alchemist's base without hesitation. Without the unforgivable bastard there, they knew full well there was nothing threatening left on this island. And though they had only been there once, both Sanji and Nami-san remembered the way like it was yesterday. They lit the torches they had brought with them and made unerringly for the dungeons.

The wooden door Sanji had kicked down a year ago was still a splintered mess, and the wood was long since beginning to rot. The stench in the dungeon itself was even more foul than Sanji remembered, and Chopper, with his extra sensitive nose, whimpered bitterly at the smell. But he stayed with them gamely as Nami-san picked the lock to the third cell and swung the metal door open.

Perona had been dead for over a year, and the decay had been considerable. There was nothing left but filthy bones and the tattered remnants of spunky red clothing and a bent crown, but they treated the remains respectfully all the same. Chopper and Robin-chan examined the bones carefully and came up with the same assessment Sanji had made a year ago: that she had likely died of starvation and some degree of physical trauma.

They did the best they could with what was left. Nami-san picked the seastone cuffs and carefully removed them from the bony wrists, tossing the offending objects into the corner with an angry growl. Sanji and Chopper spread the blankets they'd brought out carefully on the filthy ground, and Robin-chan showed them how to carefully collect the bones without disturbing or breaking them, drawing on her archeological skills. They wrapped everything, bones, clothing, and crown, in the blankets, then bore the remains out of the castle and as far from its looming presence as they could. When they were far enough away, they looked for a decent spot for a final resting place. Perona had ultimately been a pirate. They buried her in a secluded, protected place near the water, created a marker for her as best they could, paid their respects, and left.

In the morning, Zoro had dragged Sanji to the farthest corner of the ship he could possibly find, and snarled at him, with traces of that dead, empty look that had long since abandoned him, "Why are we _here?_"

To which Sanji had replied simply, "Buried her last night. I can show you the grave if you want," and left it at that. And Zoro had wanted it, so Sanji led him quietly to the barely marked grave, shoved a bottle of alcohol that Zoro was_ finally_ allowed to drink into the swordsman's hands, and left him there for a little privacy. He came back four hours later to find that Zoro had thankfully not wandered off, that the bottle was empty, that the stone looked like it had been splashed with more than a little liquor, and that the dead, empty expression that had been on Zoro's face when he left him there was gone, replaced by the stoic, not-quite-angry look he nearly always wore.

"Thanks," Zoro had muttered quietly, when Sanji led him back to the ship. Sanji merely shrugged, and they fell silent. The next day, the _Thousand Sunny_ departed the island, and none of the crew members ever looked back.

* * *

The day that Chopper declared Zoro officially healed, almost exactly one month after the second Kuraiana Island incident—and about thirteen months after his initial rescue—was a day of much rejoicing and celebration.

Zoro would probably always be a little skinnier than he originally had been, after such severe malnutrition that had nearly taken his life, and he had at least a dozen ugly scars from wounds too long untreated and infected covering his arms and his chest. Both of the physical alterations served to forever remind the rest of the crew of exactly what had happened. But once again, Roronoa Zoro possessed the thick, powerful muscles that had given him such brute strength and deadly skill with his swords. He had actively retaken his place amongst the top three fighters only days before, helping to quell an especially nasty enemy attack under the principle that a good defense was a positively vicious offense, felling exactly _one_ more opponent than Sanji (though, if Sanji wanted to be honest, he really _hadn't_ been trying as hard as he could have that day...) He was physically nearly as fit as he always had been, and acted almost exactly the same as he had before, something that fully cheered each and every member of the crew.

They'd had an enthusiastic celebration for the official announcement of Zoro's recovery, and Sanji had once again made a feast fit for kings. And though he habitually kept an eye on just how much Zoro ate like he always had for the past year, Zoro's appetite never once went out of line. He really was getting better at controlling himself.

Zoro had added to the celebration by unceremoniously hurling eyebrow insults at the cook until Sanji finally _could not_ take it anymore, and threw himself at the swordsman with no-holds-barred fury. He should have realized he was being baited, but he hardly cared. Zoro met him with swords drawn, and they fought furiously for a good ten minutes before Nami-san (rightly) intervened, stating angrily that they had better knock it off before they tore the island and half the ship apart. Both of them nursed considerable lumps on their heads throughout the rest of the party, well into the night.

It was only later, as the embers from the cheerful bonfire on the deserted island they had picked started to die down and half the crew had passed out from too much excitement, too much alcohol, or both, that Zoro quietly pulled Sanji off to one side, crossed his arms firmly, and spoke. "So. We had a draw."

Sanji couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "So?"

"So, that was part of the deal. A victory for me, or a draw, after I'm declared better by Chopper. To the whole crew."

Sanji's eye narrowed now. He remembered the deal well; he'd been thinking about it for quite some time now, the closer and closer they drew to the final time limit. It sounded like now would be the moment of truth. Had he made the right decision? Had he been right to bet on Zoro's recovery changing his mind, that his stubbornness wouldn't get the better of him?

He didn't want to be responsible for helping the swordsman leave, not if he could help it. But he'd made a deal, and Zoro _had_ kept up his part of the bargain faithfully. So he nodded quietly and said, "Fine, then. You met the conditions. So. You still want to leave?"

Zoro eyed him levelly, watched him for a long time. Sanji could practically hear the gears spinning in his head. Then he said, slowly, "What I did a year ago...was unforgivable."

"It also wasn't your fault," Sanji snapped back automatically.

He expected the same arguments Zoro had given him when they'd first rescued him; that it hadn't mattered, that he'd still done it anyway. But unexpectedly, Zoro nodded and said with a quiet sort of confidence, "You're right."

Sanji blinked in surprise. It wasn't often Zoro ever admitted that he was wrong, much less that _Sanji_ had been correct.

Zoro seemed to find his reaction amusing, and smirked for the barest of seconds before his face returned to a more serious expression. "You're right," he repeated, and his voice, too, was more serious. "I've had over a year to think about it. It's...weird. Where I'm standing now, all your arguments from _then_ make sense. But then they were...hazy. I heard them, but they didn't get through. Foggy." Sanji could only nod in understanding. Limited as the marimo's vocabulary was, he actually knew what the swordsman was driving at.

"But I've replayed everything in my mind a lot, lately. What I did...it's still unforgivable. I still almost got you all killed, because my strength was inadequate." He gave a ruined smirk, and then said slowly, "But it is..._understandable_. No matter how I think about it, I don't think I could have done anything more to fight back or resist. I did all I could do. I can at least be...satisfied...knowing that."

Sanji raised an eyebrow at that. Confusing and paradoxical; how typical of the marimo. "Gonna tell'em what happened?"

Zoro snorted, and for half a second there was the tiniest trace of the same anxiety, the same fear, that Sanji had seen on his face months ago, when he was afraid Luffy would discover his secret. "No," he said softly, so softly Sanji almost didn't hear it. "And I never will."

"They'll figure it out eventually," Sanji told him flatly. "I'm pretty sure Robin-chan knows. And Nami-san and Brook are definitely suspicious, after the things they saw and heard."

"They're only suspicions," Zoro said flatly, "and none of them will tell." Which was probably true, Sanji thought; each of them knew how to be discreet, and Robin-chan and Brook had already proven they could do it by keeping Thriller Bark a secret for so long.

Sanji didn't press the point. Instead he shrugged, and repeated instead, "Understandable, but unforgivable. You know they'd all forgive you, right?"

"I know." The ruined smirk was back. "It's myself I have the problem with."

Sanji didn't quite know what to say to that, so he lit a cigarette instead. After a moment he came to the most important question, the one Zoro hadn't quite answered yet. "Are you staying?"

There was silence for a very, very long time, and Zoro almost idly watched the wisps of smoke trail up through the air and vanish into nothing as he thought. Then he said very slowly, "Yeah. I will."

Sanji couldn't help it. Despite the fact that he _should_ by all rights be kicking the swordsman into the middle of next week for making him worry for a _whole fucking year_ he instead found himself bursting into a grin around the cigarette. "Great. 'Cause I've been thinking about it for over a year, and really, I don't know what the hell I could tell Luffy that would keep him from going after you anyway."

Zoro rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "idiot love-cook," but before Sanji could launch an indignant kick in his general direction Zoro said a little louder, and looking a little uncomfortable, "Uh, thanks. By the way."

Sanji raised an eyebrow, and looked so baffled that Zoro apparently found the need to explain. "For, uh...y'know. The whole year. You did a lot...'n I guess I was kinda an ass about most of it...so, uh. Yeah. Thanks."

Sanji snorted at him. "A lot more than you can ever imagine, marimo," he said dryly, "but I don't let my nakama go down without fighting, even if they are stupid shit swordsmen. You'd better pay it back in spades the next time I get myself up to my eyeballs in trouble, though."

Zoro smirked back at him, but when he spoke he sounded quite serious. "Don't worry about that," he said calmly. " 'long as I'm still on this crew, none of you'll be getting eyeball-deep in _any_ sort of trouble as long as I have something to say about it. And that includes you _and_ your stupid curly eyebrow."

The resulting second spar of the night was enough to wake most of the Straw Hats that had passed out, until Nami-san angrily clocked each of them on the head again and told them in no uncertain terms that if they continued making noise, they were going to pay for it. _Severely_. But that was alright with Sanji (who naturally felt that Nami-san was most in the right, and cursed marimo repeatedly for being so inconsiderate).

Because, after all, despite the fight he'd gotten the confirmation he needed. That Zoro was not completely alright, but was on the right track; had accepted that what had happened only made him human, that he'd done the best he could in an impossible situation. He might, one day, even come to forgive himself. And until then, he would still be there on the ship where he belonged, alongside nakama that genuinely wished for his well-being, that he genuinely wanted to protect.

Zoro wasn't totally okay, but he was getting there, and he was strong again, no longer an empty husk in both mind and body that he had been. And as far as Sanji was concerned, it was a success; he'd dragged a nakama back from the edge of oblivion and gotten him to stand on his own two feet again.

Smirking quietly to himself, Sanji relaxed into the blissful comforts of sleep, and dreamed of the New World.

* * *

There are a number of starvation recovery symptoms and post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms used here. So yes...Zoro's reaction is again grounded in research. Whooo.

Okay. So Karma has a mild obsession with Zoro's earrings. *cough, cough* No srsly though...it'd probably stop if I KNEW WHY HE HAD THEM TO BEGIN WITH...

**I got one question about the Alchemist** from **Agrine la Hire**, which was: "_Is there any one of his concoctions that he is allergic to?_"

The answer is, yes and no. The Alchemist actually tests all of his potions and elixirs extensively on other subjects, but he _always _tests the finalized product on _himself, _regardless of what kind of elixir it is. This goes for _all _of them (including that nasty Fireblood potion that caused some trouble a ways back). He does it to both understand the potency and level of effectiveness in all his creations, but also to see how his interactions with them are as well. It's possible he was allergic to one or two of his concoctions in the early stages! He does not, however, carry anything he can't interact with personally with him when he goes on missions.

And that, folks, is a wrap. I do have some other OP ideas festering in my brain, so be sure to check back, or mention in your review that you'd like a PM when I update the next big fic.

This will be the only time that I actually **request reviews. **Because the fic is now over, I'd really like to hear what you all have to say about it! That includes you lovely readers who have faved this fic but otherwise kept quiet; let me know what you think!

Once again, many thanks for everyone's support :)

~VelkynKarma


End file.
